Edward Takes a Holiday
by planetblue
Summary: The girl's not going to know what hit her.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Sitting in the white van, the smell of paint and thinner behind me in the racks mingling with all the other supplies is so thick I quickly roll down the window with the old crank to vent it before I pass out behind the wheel.

That definitely would not be in my best interest and would put a glitch in my schedule. Besides hindering my appointment book, I hold myself up to a certain standard, so being unconscious in this van wouldn't really be up there in ways I'd choose to pass the time.

My beige coveralls are scratchy, splattered with years of commercial jobs and smelling quite frankly like they haven't been washed in months. I sigh, wondering when I'll be able to call it a day and get the fuck home already. I have a goldfish that misses me, probably. I frown thinking about the only living thing I can bring myself to own. Hopefully it's not dead already, floating gut up at the top of the tank.

The tree-lined street is pleasant in a suburbia kind of way, the kind where kids can ride their bikes in the road without too much worry of traffic. A neighborhood where you have your newspaper delivered on your doorstep and not strewn haphazardly into your bushes by a kid that actually comes to collect the monthly fee. It's TV Land worthy, where Dad comes home at six o'clock every night to have his cocktail, pats his wife on the ass, and sits down to a hot meal before sticking his hand down the front of his Fruit of the Looms to watch the big game.

I sip at the coffee in my thermos, the taste bitter and somewhat unpleasant, but I keep drinking it anyway as I look at the clipboard in my hand.

I've been preparing for this job for over a week, making sure I'd be of no inconvenience to the homeowners as they go about their cookie-cutter lives. Mom leaves at eight to drop the kids off at their private school before making her daily pit stop at the local coffee shop to chat with the other carpool moms, all adorned in track suits encrusted in fake gems that are never used for jogging. They gossip behind perfectly applied lipstick-stained mouths and finger-fluffed hair that hasn't seen a shower yet, being as they've dragged their hangovers out of bed just in time to hustle off the kids.

The requisite foreign housekeeper doesn't arrive until nine, but she only comes three days a week, so I won't be in her way. And since I'll leave no mess, she'll never even realize I've been there.

Dad on the other hand is working from home a lot lately. Trying to keep up appearances to his loving family that he hasn't just become unemployed, a position he held that wasn't legal in any sort of way in the first place. The wife never guesses - or at least never questions - where the Lexus came from, the house in Belize, or the diamonds that adorn most of her fingers. She's happy to flash them at the Dunkin Donuts crew and turn the other cheek.

Right on time, Mom corrals the kiddos into her luxury SUV and drives around the corner, so I grab a paint can and roller, tucking a drop cloth under my arm and leaving the clipboard on the seat. I shift my painters hat low over my sun-filled eyes and adjust my glasses as I stand at the door, waiting. The neighborhood is quiet, empty. No one is walking a dog, there are no garbage men. Only the sound of automatic sprinklers making their jut-jut-jut sound. It's slightly eerie.

But exactly what I need.

Laying my items down on the brick step under the grandiose cupola that showcases the ornate entrance, I make quick work of the lock and open the thick wood door quietly, standing upright and gathering my supplies before letting myself in and softly shutting the door behind me. The foyer is majestic; marble floors lay under my feet as it stands at least two stories high with a crystal chandelier dangling over my head. It would take three or four days to paint just this entrance alone, but that's not really my concern. Leaving my items inside the front door on top of the drop cloth, I hold my breath and listen. Hearing the distant sound of a muffled voice, I know it's the homeowner, most likely on his phone in his study located in the back of the house, its large windows overlooking the pool. My thorough reconnaissance has told me that's where he spends most of his time.

The lightweight tennis shoes adorning my feet make no sound on the shiny floor as I pass leather couches with fringed pillows _(ugly)_ , gold gilded mirrored lamps _(tacky),_ and some sort of metal statue _(oddly perverse)_. I pause for a moment outside the room I'm interested in, analyzing which way his voice is directed, and once I'm confident he's facing away from the entrance, I ease my foot towards the slightly open door. Staying in the shadows of the small hallway, one push from my toe opens the door further, allowing me a view of Mr. G in all his obese glory.

"This can't last long, Marty, I'm dyin' here. You don't think someone is on their way right now? What's the fucking hold up? I don't care about my family, just get me out of here," he wheezes, his back to me as he yells at poor Marty on the phone, a lit cigar forgotten and idling in the ashtray with a long ash threatening to fall off.

Exactly nine silent steps into the room towards his desk and he's none the wiser as I pull a 22 Ruger out of the large cargo pocket built into my uniform. As ugly as the outfit is, it's actually quite a handy hideaway - the idea that maybe I should invest in a few of these ugly coveralls passes through my mind momentarily before getting back to work. The homemade silencer moves into my eyesight, and I take the briefest of milliseconds to check my aim before I pull the trigger. A barely-there click of the firing mechanism and a muffled pop from the silencer never alert Mr. G to the oncoming hollow point bullet that pierces the back of his head cleanly, scarcely leaving a hole and making him slump forward only slightly.

Nice work, I commend myself smiling, but my job here is done so I slink out the way I came, picking up my painting supplies on the way out. I wipe the door knob down with the drop cloth, discreetly wipe the outside as well when I pull it closed, and stroll to the van like I have nothing better to do. I load the van with the supplies, quickly wiping down the handle of the can and roller with the drop cloth before shutting the doors, rubbing those handles and the driver's side door with my coverall sleeve, and climbing in the driver's seat. I observe the local speed limits as I pull away from the curb, making sure to use my blinker, and make my way back to Len's Painting and Design.

The parking lot in the industrial area of town is starting to bustle with activity, but Len's lazy crew has yet to show up. Something I knew, of course, as their drinking habits on Thursday nights often make for a slow start on Friday. Taking the papers out of the clipboard I shove them into the duffel lying on the passenger side floor and start wiping down the wheel, turn signal, gear shift - anything I've touched inside the van I borrowed this morning.

No attention is paid to the painter carrying a dirty, paint speckled duffel into the equally dirty public restroom located in the midst of the warehouses, and once I've confirmed I'm alone, I get to work.

The first thing to go is the file on Mr. G, the photos and info Emmett gave me. They hover over the toilet as I burn them, letting the ash fall into the bowl and throwing the match in after it before flushing. I quickly dismantle the gun, it's not one I'm attached to, and break the plastic silencer. I'm a little sadder about that, as making them is time consuming and a hobby I've taken a bit of pride in and perfected. Even if it's quite annoying to have to destroy perfectly made silencers, it's a necessary step. Shoving the pieces into a generic plastic shopping bag, it goes back into the duffel along with my painter's hat and glasses. I pull some gel out of my bag and push a dollop through my hair, making the hat-flattened, non-descript hairstyle transform into a darker, slicked back look. Finally, the coveralls come off, revealing a clean pair of jeans and dark polo, nothing fancy.

The cleanup routine is fast, well-practiced and executed over many years, and without any haste to my steps, I casually step out of the restroom with my sunglasses in place and move to the boring, economy-style rental I left here in the middle of the night.

No one gives a second look at the blue car making its way out of the parking lot at a leisurely pace. No one slows to watch the guy stopping on the side of the road to pee, discreetly throwing a few gun pieces into the marshy ravine on the side of the highway. No one cares that a man just dropped a small bundle of clothes into a donation bin, unknowing that the coveralls in the group is drenched in bleach that's leaking from a Ziploc container placed in one of the pockets and cut with a small knife as it was pushed through the opening. No one pays any attention to the dude at the gas station vacuuming out the floor mats, or using the hose on the bottom of a pair of sneakers, ridding them both of any soil that would tie him to a specific geographical location and property twenty miles away.

The attendant at the budget rental car place gives 'John Miller' just a cursory glance, checking my mileage which is low, of course, so as to not add any extra fees or further discussion. He shakes my hand and takes the already wiped down keys out of my hands, not really thinking much of the cheap driving gloves I'm wearing as we are in the home of NASCAR after all. All the Joe Schmoes wear them in their souped up Chargers and broken down Camaros. I turn with a small wave and a thank you before he can make small talk, and head into the airport. Keeping the gloves on, I use the automated kiosk and check in, printing out my boarding pass and stopping at the newsstand to buy a paper, with cash, of course, and a cup of hopefully better coffee.

Settling into a seat to wait for my flight, I look like any other guy flying the friendly skies as I read my paper. And once we board, I quickly feign sleep, my head turned towards the window.

No one talks to a sleeping man, not even the flight attendants.

It has a certain loneliness, my life, but it comes with the territory. Let's not forget I am a hitman, after all.

And I'm fucking _good_ at it.

* * *

Looking out at the rain streaking the windows from my office high above Seattle, my fingers trace patterns and race the drops that fall quickly in rivers. I've not had one raindrop beat me yet.

Emmett's prattling on behind me, talking about the job and how there's no chatter leading to any sort of theory or suspect. He says something about money in my account before moving on to how the Seahawks blew their chance at the Super Bowl. Which was two months ago, but he can't let it go.

"Emmett!" I bark, my voice bouncing off the glass and reverberating around my ears. He stops talking and I know he's staring at me, waiting for me to say whatever it is I felt the need to cut him off about. "You let Spike _die_." Turning to face him, he looks at me with his mouth open like an imbecile.

"Edward, it was a goldfish. That's what they do. It's their only purpose in life."

"I asked you for one thing, Emmett. One. Feed my goddamn fish."

"In Emmett's defense, he did," Rosalie pipes up from the sleek leather chair across the room. Her long legs are crossed elegantly in front of her, showing the smooth, milky skin that ends in a pair of very high, black heels.

As stunning as she is, she does zilch for me. This is a good thing, I suppose, as she is my sister-in-law. Plus, I hate her.

I say nothing, just turn back to the window and observe my reflection, seeing the snarl I've perfected on my face with a feeling of satisfaction that I look so menacing. "I did, Edward. You can look at the timecodes on your alarm. I was there, the stupid thing-" he shuts up quickly as I'm suddenly in his face, the snarl right there with me.

"He wasn't stupid." Emmett's eyebrows rise and he pushes me away from him. I stumble back slightly, but only because I allow it. Resting my butt on the windowsill, I concede that perhaps, fish die no matter what you do. A laugh bubbles up in my throat, coming out in a loud spurt of sudden, derisive sound at the irony of me keeping something alive.

"You need a girlfriend, Edward. Someone that doesn't poop in their own home," Rosalie adds with a snort.

It's easy to ignore her, and it's fun since she hates it. "Maybe that's exactly what I should've expected. Hell, I can't even keep plants alive. I suppose death is my gift." I challenge Emmett with a look to make fun of my Buffy reference. He wisely chooses not to.

Pushing off the railing, I pace in front of Emmett's desk, trailing a finger over the mega-calculator, the accounting books, the metal plate that bears his name followed by the title of CPA. To the world we're an unassuming accounting office, not too big, not too small; we don't deal with high profile Fortune 500 companies or extremely well-off clients. We ride the middle - strip mall laundromats, small time design firms, middle-class families. "So what's next? Where am I off to?"

I notice the silence, and see Emmett and Rosalie exchanging a glance. "What?"

"Edward, there's no one better at what you do."

"I know that," I snap.

"And you've been doing it a long time, no breaks. Which is great for our pockets…"

"But?" I totally sense a 'but'.

"Rosalie and I think you need a break." He says it really fast; like he's afraid I'm going to take offense to this. Which of course, I do.

"I don't need a fucking break, Emmett. I'm at the top of my game. There's no reason to stop as long as we have clients." I pause, suddenly anxious. "We do have clients, do we not?" I look between him and the blonde who actually _is_ our company accountant, as she narrows her eyes at me.

"Of course we do, Edward. People don't stop wanting others dead, it's human nature and it's one we'll always be able to rely on."

"Then what's the problem?"

Emmett clears his throat and perches on the front of his desk, his big hands squeezing the wood. "We feel it's in the best interest of the business if you take a little rest, that's all."

"Have I screwed up? Gotten made? Left anyone alive that shouldn't be? No. The answer to all three of those questions and your request for a break is no. The business is fine as long as we're all doing our jobs."

"Oh hell Emmett, if you won't tell him I will. You're turning into an asshole, Edward. You need a fucking vacation."

My eyes widen and my hand covers my heart, feigning offense. "An asshole? Me? What in God's name would a vacation do for the best part of my personality?"

"Your 'personality' as you call it is one that has become unpleasant. I'm tired of you growling at me and biting Emmett's head off. You yelled at me just last week because we ran out of coffee."

"Well how can we run out of coffee? This is Seattle for Christ's sake. Walk four feet out the door and you've run into some dirty grunge hipster's shop playing World music and charging five dollars for a latte."

"That's not the point-"

"What about the business?" I rally back, sure their greedy pockets won't truly want any break they're proposing. I'm their only employee. It's not like I have a temp that can take over.

"We have something lined up for a month or so from now. It's a good one, easy, big pay. Won't take much prep work at all. And Rosalie and I deserve a vacation too." Rosalie smiles that disgusting smile she gives my brother when she's in the mood, and I know they're planning on defiling each other, probably somewhere like New Orleans amidst all its debauchery. They'll fit right in. "In the meantime, use this opportunity to relax. Learn how to golf or something."

"Nothing worse than resort wear." I shudder, picturing myself in plaid pants and a kelly green shirt. Sighing, I realize I'm probably not going to win this one, and they do deserve a break, they work almost as hard as I do. Besides, it's not like I can whip up a client on my own. "Fine. I'll take a month and read some books. Pick out a new fish. Name it Xander." I stare at Emmett pointedly.

"Ah, we think it's better for you if you went away."

"Why would I do that? Where would I go?"

"Anytime you're not in this office or not on a job, you lock yourself up in that dungeon and get even more dark and moody than you normally are. We really think it would do you some good to gain a new perspective. Have fun. Mix with people. Where would you like to go? Surely there's somewhere you've always wanted to see. Bali. Tokyo, Australia. Go hang out with some kangaroos."

My mind starts flashing images, thinking of all the places I've read about, all the landmarks and grand monuments. The Great Wall. The Eiffel Tower. Christ the Redeemer. Despite my apprehension to take a break, I start toying with the idea that I _could_ do any of those things. I _could_ take a vacation. It had never really occurred to me before to do anything but work. I shake my head, fighting the growing appeal.

"Edward, this isn't a request." Looking at my brother as he lays a heavy hand on my shoulder, I see in his eyes the care he has for me, the love despite the combative and prickly nature of what our relationship has grown into because of the way I've chosen to live.

He's worried about me. About the man I've let myself become because I didn't know what else I could be.

And he wants to boink Rosalie's brains out without having to think about work.

Conceding, exotic locations and once-in-a-lifetime thrills flit through my head, all the choices open to me. Money is no issue, and I have plenty of time. I can go anywhere, do anything. Snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef. Meditation in a Buddhist Temple. Hell, I've never been anywhere in the U.S., really, maybe I'll go to Dollywood.

All the way home and the rest of that evening, I ponder the choices, weighing the pros and cons of each. What place will boost my morale, which will further educate my already high IQ, and most importantly, where on Earth will people not annoy the living shit out of me.

Sipping a scotch and thumbing through the travel catalogues Rosalie gave me, I glance at my computer. I don't go online often, but there's one place I've frequented on Google Earth, one place I've convinced myself I'll never get to. I feel the idea growing and I hesitate, fighting it, but my mind surrenders and takes me to a less exotic place, a different attraction. One not as decadent or exclusive as a Wonder of the World, but intriguing nonetheless.

Looking around my apartment, I see it through Emmett's and Rosalie's eyes, the only people to have ever been here. It _is_ depressing. Gun and mercenary magazines line the coffee table, dark curtains block out any light coming from the street, and the only pictures on the walls are generic prints of clarinets and saxophones from Bed Bath  & Beyond that Rosalie chose hoping to add some 'fun' to the room. Maybe they're right; maybe I do need a life. A slow smile forms on my face, the idea of finally visiting a place I've longed for grows on me, albeit with a touch of apprehension. Maybe it's time.

Picking up the phone, I dial Emmett so Rosalie can make the arrangements. Before he can say hello, I bark out my command. "Key West. I want to go to Key West."

* * *

 **Hello everyone!**

 **I'm very happy to be back and I hope you enjoy my new story.**

 **First things first, you all must check out LayAtHomeMom's new story, "Kush". It is truly enjoyable, and I think you'll all fall in love with this Edward as much as I have. She posts on Thursday nights!**

 **I couldn't have done this without her keen insight, her great sense of humor, and her invaluable suggestions. She worked hard on this as my faithful pre-reader while still writing her own.**

 **Big thanks to Lolypop82 for another awesome banner. You were right, we always get it done. Big, blue thumbs up!**

 **And of course, no story of mine is complete without the love and attention of my beta, CarrieZM. She constantly acts as support system and muse, and never ever fails me.**

 **I appreciate the three of them so much, as well as the girls over at TLS for letting me use them to sneak this and present my banner this past Saturday.**

 **And I appreciate you, dear readers, for wanting more of my words.**

 **See you every Monday and Thursday, as per usual!**

 **xoxo, PB**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Why the fuck did I think I'd like Florida for Christ's sake?

The air outside the airport is stifling. Steamy and muggy with the heat of planes roaring overhead as they take off while the hot pavement is springy and moist under my feet.

Out of habit, I've gone ahead and prepared for where I am. I've studied the local traffic laws, researched and contemplated every road map. I even went so far as to pin down every law enforcement establishment in a ten mile radius and memorize their employees.

But this trip not being work and having a more personal agenda has thrown me off my game. My long-sleeved shirt feels like armor and I do a mental checklist of my entire luggage, because the one thing I _forgot_ to do was research the local climate for the duration of my stay.

Four suits, two cashmere sweaters, five pairs of dark denim jeans, six button-down long-sleeve shirts and one pair of leather loafers. Fuck. I roll my eyes at myself. I don't think I even _own_ swim trunks.

I don't _do_ vacations. I don't know how. The feeling that I'm failing is driving me batshit and I've only been here ten minutes. Irritation starts to set in, so I close my eyes and take a deep breath, only it's exhaust that fills my nose and lungs, making me grimace. That's not the outcome I'd hoped for. Nothing is working out and I'm edgy, wondering how I'm going to survive the rest of my mandatory holiday. I'm probably the only hitman in the history of hitmen that has a Xanax prescription.

I dutifully stand in the taxi line even though I feel like being a downright prick by hailing a cab farther up the arrivals walkway, jumping ahead of the tourists in front of me. But despite this not being work, it's in my nature to not call attention to myself. A fact I see I'm also failing at as the old woman in front of me with a pink visor stuck in her gray curls feels the need to point out my long-sleeved, black shirt and crisp, gray pants.

"Leprosy. I have a terrible case of leprosy. Wouldn't want my skin to fall off and land on your beautiful, orthopedic white sandals now, would we?" My smile is devilish as I look down at her, and despite my learned behavior of blending into the populace, it feels good to let a bit of character out. She wisely turns and pushes her husband to walk forward in the line even though it hasn't moved.

Finally seated in the back of a cab with a powerful air conditioner, I peer out the window as we ride along the coast where the Gulf of Mexico and the warmer waters of the Atlantic combine to make the most extraordinary shade of blue-green I've ever laid eyes on in person. Palm trees sway amongst candy-colored houses and buildings, and the calypso music the cabbie has on _(to get tourists in the mood and liable to tip more, I'm sure)_ isn't as offensive as I would've thought. I find I'm tapping my foot, caught up in the Caribbean feel and hopeful that maybe this won't be a bust after all.

Paying for my ride along with a tip _(moderate, and in cash of course)_ , I'm pleased my hotel is as promised and on the very end of the island, and once I see my room, I'm happy albeit apprehensive that I went ahead and defied logic a bit, requesting one of the grand suites set apart from the main hotel. Despite it being showy, it should still have the benefit of being private, but I just couldn't deny myself a bit of luxury in the form of a 270 degree view of the Gulf.

The suite is large, mostly decorated in whites with hints of blue. Large sliders open almost fully along the wall, allowing for the breathtaking view of the aqua water and the little Island of Sunset Key, an exclusive enclave for the super-rich that sits a ways away. I've never been one to want to own majestic things due to the nature of my occupation - I drive a very normal Jeep, I live in a moderately priced condo in an unassuming building - but standing on my private balcony with its all-glass barrier I can see the appeal of actually spending the money I earn.

I pull my heavy shirt away from my skin as the sun is falling to the South at my left, preparing to sink under the water for the night and decide against my lack of desire for the chore, that the first order of business will be to go buy some more appropriate clothing.

* * *

I can't deny that the warm air feels good on my now bare legs, and although I'm pretty pale from the Seattle weather and my general hate/hate relationship with the sun, the white linen shirt I've paired with a respectable pair of khaki cargo shorts is cool and comfortable. Even though the sun is now down for the evening, the air is still sticky, the only respite is the cool breeze that sometimes washes through the buildings over Duval Street from the Gulf.

Boisterous revelers are getting their drink on inside the many bars that line the street, live music in all forms floating out through the open air windows that all the restaurants seem to have. I stop to watch one fellow on a piano, playing comedic songs and not having to try too hard to get the tipsy crowd involved in a sing-along. I toy with the idea of going in to see if it's something I'd enjoy, but before I can open the door an inebriated woman falls out and into my hold. Her arms fall around my waist so her face is pressed right up against my stomach, and she turns her head so her cheek rests there before struggling to gain her footing. Her hands move up my chest, pulling herself into an upright position and leaves them on my arms as I drop my shopping bags to help steady her. In her drunken state, she begins to caress my skin.

It's stunning, the contact, and it's then that it dawns on me I don't touch a lot of people, nor do they touch me. My job requires I have as little to do with my targets as possible, my family isn't really the hugging type, and I'm not the best romantic candidate. It's been a long time since I've touched someone with feeling and had it returned to me.

Stepping away from her, I make sure the girl's friends have corralled her safely and decide to get back to what makes me comfortable. The confines of my hotel room and watching people from afar.

* * *

The Pier House has many fine attributes, and as I walk past the pool I decide to put my newly purchased swim shorts to use tomorrow. Underwater you can be anonymous. You can be alone with a lot of people.

But the finest attribute by far is the barely occupied bar, the overhead palm fans swirling the air lazily and making my humid and unruly hair flutter in my eyes. I watch the young couple in the seats at the end, smoking and drinking and making out. They're caught up in each other, her sunburnt skin and sundress bright under the lighting. Possibly recently engaged or on their honeymoon. The guy has had his mouth stuck to her neck for about ten minutes as she squeals and continues to look at whatever is adorning her finger.

My nerves hit me as I watch the bartender a while, before she goes behind a wall of bottles carrying a box she just emptied. Unsure I belong, I turn to go back to my room but pause, throwing my head back and sighing. I'll probably not have a better opportunity at a diminished crowd as I do right now once the sun is up and the beachgoers monopolize the outdoor bar. I just wasn't expecting to be social quite this early into my trip.

I make my move to a seat on the other side of the bar farthest from the couple, to ensure they have a bit of privacy, but mostly to avoid making myself squirm if I were to be in close proximity. The bartender comes back around but doesn't notice me yet, so I watch her move her hands under the water she's bent over, washing glasses and placing them up on the drying bin. I look her up and down, taking in her frayed denim shorts and Keds, which make me smile, reminding me of a long ago time when things were simpler… for a while.

Her breasts are perfect, the shirt they're behind pulling taut as the title of the hotel stretches between them. Long, wavy brown hair falls down the front of her shirt getting dangerously close to the water she's using.

My stomach clenches and knots, flips and violently tumbles. My throat makes an embarrassing, unbecoming, strangled sound.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't see you there. What can I get you?" She turns with a smile on her beautiful face, wiping her hands on a dish rag.

The smile falls instantly.

Part of me hoped she wouldn't recognize me so I could back away with my tail between my legs, even though I knew the sole purpose of coming here was to see her. I'm both happy that she hasn't forgotten me and sickened by the fact she doesn't seem as pleased as I am to be back in each other's company.

The towel she's holding gets flung over her shoulder, and she braces an arm against the counter and another on her hip. I can't help but notice her fingers skimming the skin the rise of her t-shirt has exposed. Well, it's less of a skim, more of a clawing.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Edward Cullen. Slap me on the ass and call me Sally."

"Hello, Bella." My adrenaline kicks up at hearing the slightly raspy voice that hasn't changed. As I wait for her to say something else, my smile falls at the blank expression she's wearing, and I clear my throat, uncharacteristically anxious. "It's been a long time."

Her eyebrows rise. "A long time," she drawls. "Well, yeah. I guess it has."

"How have you been?" Small talk. It's really not fun.

"I'm good, I'm good." She nods, pushing her hair back behind her ear. "Had hoped you were dead though, so seeing that you're not kind of puts a damper on my evening."

Dead? She hoped I was dead? Well that's worse than I thought. "Sorry to be a mood killer." I can't help but smirk a bit at my choice of words. My eyes take her in, just as beautiful if not more so since I knew her, way back when. Back when I was almost a good guy.

"Seeing as you're not, in fact, six feet under, I suppose I have to do my job and offer you a drink?"

"Uh, red wine. Something good." I'd really like to look at the wine list, but I'm not about to be a pretentious jerk right off the bat.

She looks at me a moment before shaking her head and turning to the open bottles under the bar. No one but me would notice the slight shake in her pour, the way her left hand holds the glass like she's afraid she's going to spill everything. The Bella I knew, _my_ Bella, was cool and confident. Is this nervousness from me? Do I dare hope that she's not full of hatred? Understandable if she was, of course, but maybe she has a bit of excitement coursing through her at the prospect that I've returned?

Setting a napkin and the glass in front of me, she steps back like she can't stand to be too close. It's disheartening, but even I'm not enough of an ass to have thought that I'd be pulled into her warm, cupcake embrace and greeted the way she used to when I'd sneak into her room at night.

Okay, I _am_ enough of an ass to think that maybe that would happen.

Taking a sip, I can't help but gag. "What the hell is this?"

"The farthest thing from anything good I have." She leans on the bar and shrugs. "I'm sort of hoping it makes you rethink whatever you were hoping to accomplish here and leave. The way me not being good enough made you do the same thing."

I'm stunned, floored that she thinks that's why I left. How could she not know what she meant to me? How could she doubt _anything_ about that time we had together?

How could she not know how deeply I loved her? She thinks I left because of her?

"I take it you're mad that I never said goodbye?"

She looks at me like I'm a stupid kindergartener. "Mad? No. Not mad." She moves away and picks up the glasses she'd been letting air dry. Suddenly, a highball glass is hurdling full speed at my head. I'm barely able to move out of the way of the oncoming missile.

"I'm furious!" Another glass.

"Humiliated!" And yet another.

"Pissed off that I wasted years on you when I had perky, teenage tits!" Her aim improves, or my reflexes slow, because that last one hits me in the shoulder.

I might've been stupid to think things would be like we'd never parted, but I'm not stupid enough not to know it's time to retreat. Holding my hands up in surrender, I get up from my seat and back away.

"Why don't I come see you tomorrow, maybe when you've had time to settle down? I'm a guest here at the hotel."

She raises one more glass, weighing the heft in her hand. "See me tomorrow. Right. I seem to recall those actually being your last words _before I never saw you again!_ " The glass flies perfectly towards my head, but this time, I'm fast enough to duck. "Go back to whatever shiny penny distracted you so much that you decided leaving like you never existed was not the biggest dick move in all of dick move history!"

I'm stupefied, my mouth hanging open in shock. She can't possibly think there was another girl?

"Well, I'll just-" Glass shattering next to my feet makes me fall back farther, my eyes widening and my mouth opening again with nothing coming out. Any smart remarks I can think of probably would not help the situation I've found myself in.

We have a bit of a stare-down, Bella's still perky chest heaving with anger and exertion. I guess the adrenaline that made her shake while pouring my wine _wasn't_ the good kind. She closes her eyes to regain her composure and as quietly as I'd arrived at her bar, I've disappeared back into the shadows. I watch as she blinks and cranes her neck to see where I've gone off to, even asking the couple _(that let's be honest, couldn't continue making out during our spat)_ where I'd gone.

Slinking back to my room and pressing myself against my door, I go over in my mind the events of the evening.

Seeing Bella: Good. _Very_ good, in fact.

Bella seeing me: Hmm, not the reunion I've fantasized about for thirteen years.

Bella throwing things: That was never good, but I'm kind of thrilled she hasn't lost her penchant to do so.

Bella looking for me after I'd pulled a Houdini: Well that was surely positive... I think.

The likelihood I can mend this: A non-issue. _I'm_ Edward Cullen.

And I _always_ hit my mark.

* * *

 **Hey... guess what? It's KUSH night! If you're not reading this, start now. LayAtHomeMom is really nailing this one and I swoon big time over this Edward!**

 **In other news... it's that time again! The official Twi Fic Meet Up is upon us! It'll be in San Diego this year, September 30-October 2. Come hit me up if you need the link. Hope to see YOU there!**

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 _ **And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! I know FF was having trouble all day, some of you couldn't review, and a large number couldn't see the chapter at all. I've deleted the original 3 and posted it again, so it's possible you've read this earlier today. I'm so very sorry, and I'm heartbroken I lost all of your kind words.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

The next morning, a beautiful, bright, oppressively muggy day, I decide to sit down and plan my attack on Bella. It's what I do - extensive research and preparation to execute a successful outcome. _Execute_ , heh.

My laptop is open in front of me and I'm sipping a pretty good cup of coffee, while deciding if the internet is really the smart option. I never use the World Wide Web to look up my targets obviously, so that there's never a connection in cyberspace to anyone. But since I'm not planning on killing Bella, it's probably okay in this instance.

I type in her name, and just the act of doing so is thrilling. I-S-A-B-E-L-L-A. It's something I've toyed with over the years but never got up the nerve to do. The only info I've had on her in thirteen years is when I allowed myself that one slip and hacked into the DMV database on the laptop of a target after 'retiring' him, an employee that had made the mistake of selling information to the wrong guy and not being able to keep quiet about it.

I frown, thinking now that it's quite possible she chose this humid place to be as far away from our home state of Washington that the United States would allow, just to get away from the memory of me. I wallow in self-pity while I wait the impossible half a second for Google to show me what it knows about Bella.

Only two things come up. There's a Bella Swan that has a boyfriend who is the local Halo champ in Ohio, and the other is an address from the White Pages here in Key West. I think I'll go with the address.

Pulling up a map, I see it's not really within walking distance but decide to do so anyway, to scope out her neighborhood for any potential threats. Bella never did think of her safety, she was always pushing limits, trying to see how far she could take things. It wouldn't surprise me if she lives in the worst part of town just to prove she can handle it.

I take another sip of coffee and smile, allowing myself to wander through my repressed memories, the ones I've forced myself to keep inside after I did what I did. They're crawling to the surface in droves, freed from their prison after just ten exciting _(albeit frustrating)_ minutes with her.

Bella, my little ulcer-maker.

She was the first girl to jump off the cliff at La Push, egged on by the reservation kids, unwilling to think that she couldn't do it because of her gender. She never thought twice about hitchhiking even when she knew I'd come get her, always excited by the prospect of meeting someone new. Huffing glue in the girl's room just to be able to say she had occupied her one boring Thursday afternoon.

My smile turns dark as I inevitably pull up one that angered me the most - when she had walked alone at midnight drunk from the Christmas rager her old friend Angela threw, one of the only times where our parents were able to separate us and I had to attend my Aunt's holiday party.

I loved that about her, though, too. The carefree way she didn't have any regard for her own life, expecting everything to work out with a shrug of her shoulders and a smile she knew would melt me.

Which it always did.

But oh, the fight we had after I found out about that walk home. I don't think anything was left on her dressers once we were done, her aim thankfully pretty bad. I feel myself growing hard remembering the great dry hump session that ensued after that one amidst a pile of broken glass, torn books, and dirty socks.

Man, that girl could turn on a eunuch, grinding and swiveling her hips like a belly dancer on ecstasy. I'd be lying if I said her anger didn't still affect me. I made a beeline for the moisturizer I keep in my toiletry bag when I got back from seeing her last night. It may or may not have been her old favorite Bath and Body Works Tahiti Island Dream scent.

Donning another new outfit of cargo shorts and a linen shirt, I grab my sunglasses and a stylish fedora hat I picked up made of straw. Looking in the mirror, I think I look pretty good, and ordinary. Like a tourist _(sans a dreadful fanny pack)_. Which is excellent.

Making a quick pass from a distance, I sweep the bar and see a different bartender on duty. Perhaps Bella only works nights, something that would make sense. She was always a night owl, often keeping me on the phone well into dawn as we talked about nothing and everything even though we'd just spent eighteen hours together that day. We were obsessed, all-encompassing, our souls only circling each other.

The ache for her is still there in me, keeping me company on my walk, but I'm less sure after last night's encounter if it's the same for her. The need to have her never left even when I denied it and told myself it was best for her that she not be with me. I pause as I get closer to her neighborhood, suddenly stricken with an idea that had not entered my mind since I booked my trip and subconsciously hatched my plan to win her back. What if she has a boyfriend? Or Jesus, she might be _married_. Or maybe I turned her gay.

Occasionally, I have brief moments of panic right before a job, something I consider a good thing as it means I haven't lost my humanity. I'm feeling a bit of it now, so I give myself the pep talk I usually do when this happens and don't want to drug myself. I assume it'll have the same outcome, so I duck into an empty bus shelter and close my eyes.

 _Go get 'em, Edward. You're the best hitman there is. No one can do what you do when all you have at your disposal is a letter opener and a rubber band_ (don't ask) _._

I say this three times, and my mood lifts so I square my shoulders, more determined than ever. Even if she is involved in any of the unfortunate relationships I've considered, she won't be in any of them for long.

I've always been a fast walker, but I make myself stroll so as to not call attention to myself while I amble through the streets of Key West, getting farther from the tourist area and into what is definitely a residential section. I assume most of the people that work on the island reside here, the small homes and condos are still painted in the candy colors but lack a good view like the mansions on the other side of town that line the small but pleasant streets.

The palm trees and flora choke the sidewalks on her road; the houses are set back on their properties even though they're pretty close to one another. It's hard to see the entrances to the homes, well anything really from the street due to the foliage, which is certainly not ideal. What I can see of the properties around show tiny houses, but they maintain that Key West charm, most having small front porches with wicker furniture and plantation-style window coverings.

Nearing her number, I'm definitely relieved to see she's not living in an apartment complex of crack heads or something equally appalling like a yurt. A small, cheery yellow house with wind chimes on the porch and a trellis of roses sits on the property, completely at odds with where I reside, which makes my insides get mopey.

I walk by a few times even though that's not a great idea, but since I have no car to stake her out from, my options are limited. There's a scooter parked by the front stairs, so I take that to mean she's home. Weighing my options, I try to decide on the best course of action. I could walk up, knock on the door, and demand she speak with me. Visions of beach-type decor like conch shells and seahorse bookends being flung at my head make me hesitate however, so I decide to survey her as well as I can from the plants crowding her lawn.

I feel like a tool squatting in the bushes, but I'm closer to the house here, and can definitely hear music inside coming from the open windows, so I lean forward to hear it better hoping to get a sense of what Bella's musical style might be now. She's always had a quirk to her tastes, even voting for our prom song to be "Teenage Lobotomy" by the Ramones in honor of the forced-upon ritual.

Straining to hear, my heart picks up the tune before my brain can connect, my pulse soaring as the notes of Sun Kil Moon's "Carry Me Ohio" lilts out of the windows, and suddenly I find myself uncharacteristically laid out on my side among dead palm fronds and God knows what else, in disbelief.

This _can't_ be a coincidence. She can't still listen to that song without it meaning _something_ to her. We listened to that on repeat - driving, talking, kissing, fucking.

It's all the confidence boost I need. I approach her door and watch a moment through the screen, but I don't see Bella in the rooms in front of me. Knocking on the frame, the door buckles and slaps against my fist. I could knock again, or I could just go in. It's technically not breaking and entering since her door is wide open _(of course she wouldn't lock it)_ , and I do know her, I reason.

Stepping across the threshold, instinct kicks in and I let my feet glide soundlessly into the room, sticking close to the wall. I make a mental note of the furnishings _(cozy with a shabby chic feel)_ , the layout _(one long, open floor plan - noticeably renovated)_ , and the pictures lining a low table against the wall _(none of me but also no couple-y images of any other man… or woman either)_. It's a nice home even if it's tiny, and I wonder if Bella has another job besides bartending because Key West life is not cheap. I would know, I checked the real estate costs.

Listening for sounds of life and hearing none, I step towards the adjoining kitchen _(no roosters in bonnets, thank God)_ and take note of the dishes in the sink. Skillet, one plate, one fork. My hand ghosts over the stove, still warm. There's movement out of the corner of my eye and I react quickly, my lightning fast reflexes allowing me to catch a hairbrush, its spiky points stabbing me in the hand.

"Ow! Can you do anything _but_ throw things at me for just a second, please?"

"It's actually a great workout. I've missed it." She's gloriously damp, a towel wrapped around her breasts, and I have a mental vision of what they were like all those years ago. They still bulge over her towel invitingly. "You have no right to be standing in my kitchen, let alone _alive_ and standing in my kitchen."

I tilt my head at her cute stubborn bear cub fury. "Oh, Bella. I think I have every right to be here." Walking to the dock on the kitchen counter, I smile _(my best snarky but loveable one)_ and point at the iPhone. "How many times a day do you listen to this? Every morning while you shower? Every night as you hug your pillow to you wishing it was me?"

She moves closer, her scent filling my nostrils and making my mouth water. She still smells like a fucking bakery, and I want to eat her like a cronut. I didn't think she'd give in quite this easily, I'm actually a bit disappointed in her that she's caving so quickly, but I don't doubt my charm that still has obvious power over her.

Her hand moves to the counter next to me and I hear the unmistakable sound _(well, unmistakable to me, at least)_ of a metal blade sliding out of wood. Automatically, I turn quickly and pin her arm against the granite, causing my body to hover over hers delightfully. "What do you think you're doing, Bella?" I can't help my eyes from skimming across her smooth collarbone and soaking up the sweet skin of her neck. A neck I want to bite and lick better.

There's momentary surprise on her face that I've trapped her so swiftly, but she recovers, staring at me through venomous, perfect brown eyes. "I was about to stab you."

My brows rise, along with other parts of me. I always loved her feistiness. "You're not a fan of blood, Bella. Never were." A certain accident with roller blades and her knee comes to mind, a hysterical trip to my bathroom to patch her up amusing to me now but also uncomfortably giving me pause that I'd forgotten that about her.

"I was going to make an exception for you, you know, seeing as how you broke into my home." As slight the action is, it doesn't escape me that she looks at my mouth, smiling down at her. Squirming, she tries to get up. "Let me go."

Resentfully, I remove my body from hers but not before taking the knife from her, what I now see is a meat cleaver _(messy choice)_. She adjusts her towel as I slide the knife back in place, before folding my arms over my chest and leaning casually in front of the cupboards, blocking the weapons from her. "I missed breakfast?"

"You never ate breakfast."

"Coffee then, offer me some coffee."

"I have zero desire to do so." She backs away from me until she reaches the wall. It's distressing she seems so upset, but I can't leave yet.

"It's the polite thing to do."

"Polite? You want to talk polite all of a sudden? I think there's a Webster's over on the bookcase for you. Why don't you look up the definition while I go find a muumuu to put on?" She leaves quickly down the hallway and I fight the urge to follow her. Maybe I'm coming on too strong; I should back off a bit.

A _bit_.

I start looking for clues that there might be someone else in her life. The flowers on the end table don't indicate romance; it's just a simple tulip bouquet in an old white water pitcher. The place is a bit cluttered, but it seems to be all of Bella's things and if she were having a man over regularly, I'd assume she'd pick up a little. Remembering her childhood room, I change my mind on that assessment. She was never neat.

She has no jewelry on, and the towel she's wrapped in _(lucky towel)_ is a bit threadbare. Surely if you were having company overnight you'd invest in a few good bath accessories. The refrigerator is filled with takeout containers, an expired bottle of mayo and a bottle of white wine _(sub-par)_.

She's back quickly, in a long skirt and baggy t-shirt which makes me frown. "Edward, I'm expecting company, so I really have to cut this very unpleasant visit short." She starts walking towards the door, seemingly about to usher me out.

Instead, I walk to the couch and make myself comfortable, even though inside I'm nervous as hell, anticipating and dreading the talk that we need to have. "I don't think you are, actually."

Her eyebrows raise and she gives me a look like she can't believe my gall. "You cooked eggs this morning. The scent is still lingering in the air, not a pleasant smell, which means that if you were expecting someone you were interested in, you would've lit some candles or prepared yourself something sweeter, like waffles or apple cinnamon oatmeal." Two of her very favorite things.

Her mouth gapes but she doesn't dispute this, so I continue. "Also, there's a box of tampons prominently displayed on the kitchen counter. You were never shy about your bodily functions, Bella, but even you had limits." She wouldn't let me touch her when she was on her period, a very frustrating thing for me because I wanted her all the time and was above being icked out by it like a normal teenage boy.

I get up, walking to her slowly. I see her legs shift, one foot rubbing the other. A nervous habit I'm happy to still see is her 'tell'. My arms move slowly as to not scare her off, and one hand comes up to brace itself against the wall next to her head. Her breathing increases, I can see the fine hairs on her forehead begin to curl with the anxious heat she's exuding, and her eyes are dancing between mine apprehensively. But she doesn't move.

"Lastly, Bella, beautiful Bella. The song. You wouldn't be listening to our song if someone else were coming by. I know you, cupcake. That song means just too damn much to both of us." Our eyes are locked, her lips are kissable, and I let one shaky _(but not to her unskilled eye)_ hand move up, allowing one finger to trail over her cheek like a feather. I'm trained to slow my breathing, to control my heart rate, but I've always been weak when it comes to her, and wonder if she can hear the panic and excitement in my chest like I can hear hers.

"Bella," I whisper, coaxing her to forgive me for things she shouldn't. For betraying and hurting her. But I'm too selfish a creature to leave her alone even though it's probably for the best.

My body is electrified when she says my name, the sweetest word coming out of her dreamy mouth. "Edward."

"Yes." I begin to lean in, overly excited at the prospect of feeling her again.

"Go fuck yourself." Her knee comes up right into the family jewels just as her words hit my ears, the double assault equally painful between my ego and my man parts. The strike is brutal enough that I fold over, onto the ground, grasping my injured cock and balls and writhing beneath her in a way I hadn't pictured last night when I was elbow deep in my Tahiti Island Dream lotion.

"I expected you to be angry but why would you even consider hurting a part of me you liked so much?" I gasp, managing to get on my knees, my breath heavy with a bit of drool leaking from the corner of my mouth.

She leans over me, her voice hot and loud in my ear. "Because I no longer have any use for those parts of your body, except to inflict harm. So if you wish to keep yourself intact, I suggest you leave Key West all together before that meat cleaver gets put to some real use."

"A meat cleaver really isn't the tool…"

"Edward, get out. Don't come back. I have no desire to see you, hear your excuses or otherwise engage with you in any way."

Lifting myself back on my feet, I smooth my shirt with my hands and replace the fedora on my head while reaching for the sunglasses I'd stashed in my breast pocket. "I guess that means you won't let me buy you dinner." She blinks, once, twice. "I really do want to explain myself to you, Bella. You deserve the truth, and I really don't think it's going to be anything you're expecting to hear. I think it's actually going to blow your mind." I may or may not remember that Bella loved it when her books took unusual twists, banking on the fact that she's now intrigued. Plus, the aroma she's giving off, the flutter of her chest and dazed look in her eyes suggests she may still have feelings for me. "Come on, for old times' sake." I make the smile that used to get her to forgive me when I was an ass as so many teenage boys are.

"Not on your life." Okay, so maybe that didn't work. On to plan B.

"If you don't, I'm going to sit on your porch every night and sing. Very loudly and off-key."

"I have window units. I'll crank them all. Problem solved."

Or C. "Okay then, if you don't give me just one chance to explain, you're going to wonder about this for the rest of your life. And I might not have seen you in a long time, but I remember enough to know that _that_ is going to drive you more insane than my singing ever would."

I see it in her eyes when she realizes I'm right. "One drink. My choice, tonight. I'll leave directions at the hotel's front desk for you."

Shit. She'll use my real name, which I _never_ use for hotels. "I'm uh, my travel agent made the arrangements; I'm registered under Rosalie Hale."

She shoots me a quirked brow but says nothing, pushing me out the screen door and I hear the heavy thud of the inner door closing behind me.

Smiling, I replace my sunglasses and step down to the cement walkway, albeit a bit gingerly. Triumphantly, I got her to agree to see me again, in public, which my aching junk thanks me for.

As I amble back to the hotel, my cocky smile turns into a very worrisome grimace, anxiety riddling my body and making me wish I had my Xanax in my pocket. I might've gotten Bella to hear me out, now I just have to hope that my very once open-minded childhood sweetheart doesn't run screaming when she learns what I've become.

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 _ **And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**** IMPORTANT NOTE ****

 **I know some of you had issues with FF earlier in the week, either unable to access CHAPTER 3 on Monday or didn't know it had posted at all.**

 **Please make sure you go back to read it before reading this one! If you still can't see it, please PM me and let me know.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

To relax from my pulse-pounding but heavenly _(besides the kick in the 'nads)_ morning convincing Bella she should hear me out, I decide to make use of the hotel pool. Knowing Bella isn't on duty allows me to stop by the bar for a glass of wine; one I select myself from the extensive list. I should probably try to blend in with a Pina Colada or something housed in a coconut, but I've never been one for fruity, girly drinks that taste like a Sandals commercial.

Slathering on my 50+ sunblock, I feel a bit silly in the trunks I bought, even if they are by far the tamest at the pool. Palm trees, surfing penguins, all adorn the men that lay about the chaises with beers in their hand. Should I have ordered a beer _(vile)_ instead? My plaid trunks and I make our way to the pool, dipping a toe in before diving fluidly underwater like Michael Phelps.

I said I don't own trunks, I didn't say I don't enjoy a swim. In my apartment building after hours, I've been known to swim sans swimwear in utter privacy since I assume no one else in the building knows how to pick locks.

Floating down to the bottom of the pool, I let my inhuman ability to hold my breath for an extensive period of time _(comes in handy, believe it or not, at work)_ give me a brief respite from any noise. I watch as legs pass me, taking the occasional glance at a set of boobs as they float above. Pushing off the cement bottom before anyone can become alarmed at my talent, I skyrocket to the surface and break free, before stroking through a lazy lap towards the chair where I left my things.

This isn't so bad, VA-CA-TION. People watching is definitely in my wheelhouse of skills, but doing it just for the heck of it is amusing. Couples disagree a lot, I notice, even when they're supposed to be relaxing and happy. Fascinating. Maybe Bella and I are already halfway to marriage.

The metal of the chair screeches next to me on the cement and a man of about forty _(balding and paunchy)_ leans back with a satisfied groan, his body dripping pool water and I wonder why he hadn't grabbed a towel. "You go ahead, baby. I'm watching." He waves at a somewhat cute blonde child in a pink Minnie Mouse swimsuit as she jumps in, her fingers pinching her nose closed. He drinks his beer so I sip my wine, wondering if I'm supposed to make small talk.

The waitress comes around and he orders another, watching her ass as she walks away. "My wife used to look like that."

I look at the woman holding the toddler in the pool. What the fuck am I supposed to say in return? Looking at your wife, I'd have to disagree? "Mmm." I say, non-committedly, but it's enough for him to see me as a willing audience.

"Here on vacation?"

"Aren't we all?" I smile, raising my glass to him. We return to silence, and the waitress returns with his beer.

"I bet you're here with a girl that looks great in a bikini." Is this man serious? He doesn't even _know_ me. People are very crass. I like them better when I sneak up behind them and strangle them with piano wire.

"Sort of visiting an old friend, actually."

"Oh, well that's a good reason to be here."

I say nothing, just sip my wine and think about Bella freely, still a foreign feeling since I've denied myself of the activity over the years. I learned very quickly that not thinking of her allowed me the freedom to do my job, and also to not make my chest, stomach, head, and every appendage hurt so much.

Bella's image drifts before my eyes, a memory of her in cutoffs much like the ones she had on last night paired with a blue gingham bikini top. She was a vision, holding onto the rail of my mom's jeep as we made our way to the beach for a day of surfing, getting high and making out.

She's dancing in front of me like it was yesterday to the music coming from the portable radio we had, a joint in hand and her skin glowing orange from the small fire we'd made. Her hair was wild, curled from sea salt and sand, and I thought I was going to die, my heart was so full of her.

My thoughts are cut short as the man gets up to help his wife dry off their kid. "Have fun visiting with your friend." I wave goodbye, making a mental note I'll have to go back to that interrupted memory later with my lotion. As pleasant a thought as that is, and as much as I'd like to run up there right now to relive it in private, there's a bigger elephant gnawing at my head caused by what the ass-gawker just said.

Fun.

Seeing her, being near her, experiencing her ire - it's been _fun_ for me, it's been the best feeling I've had since I left her. But has it been for Bella?

Lying to myself has become habit, a way to deal with the way I live. It's a daily occurrence, lying about my name, lying about why I'm travelling, lying to myself that what I do has no moral repercussions _(even if the guys I whack deserve it)_ , but can I really pull the wool over my own eyes and talk myself into the idea that Bella is happy to see me? Why the fuck _should_ she be?

The guilt I've quelled for years, the pain inside me all this time is not only for what I lost, but the pain I caused _her…_ I shake my head and take a big swallow, the red wine abruptly bitter in my mouth. She said she wanted me dead. She was humiliated. _I_ did that. Her boyfriend, her soul mate, the person that promised to protect her heart forever, in reality, killed it.

She was going to gut me with a meat cleaver. You don't just pick that weapon as foreplay. Now a branding iron, maybe.

After I've had my fill of the pool _(and people)_ , I check with the front desk to see if there are any messages for me. I'm delighted when the girl says yes, but then horrifyingly depressed when the message is from Emmett, so I stuff it in the pocket of my trunks and sulk on my walk to my room.

Pacing, I'm unaccustomed to the idea of having no control over a situation. Even before I chose my occupation, I was most relaxed when I was in charge - a trait that I found Bella mostly liked _(in the bedroom, heh)_ , but in our day to day activities, she would do all she could to tame the urge I had. It makes total sense now, of course, something I suppose will come up when we talk. If she doesn't leave me hanging like an ear attached to a lone string of cartilage after it's been used as a compliance tool.

Showering the chlorine off of me, I'm grateful for the luxury of the phone in the bathroom, hanging on the sleek white tiled wall. I keep one eye on it throughout, willing it to buzz with my agenda for the evening. Will she ask to talk to me? Or will she leave a message for the front desk to be in charge of delivering? Frustrated, I grab the Bath and Body Works Tahiti Island Dream body wash _(don't judge me)_ and go to town on myself. Picturing Bella kneeling in front of me, her hair wet with droplets that shine and sparkle as she moves, I come quickly, making sure not to leave evidence of my activities on the glass door.

The scotch in the minibar is inviting, but I grab the bottle of red I'd been drinking by the pool _(prompt room service - noted)_ and head out to the balcony, calming my breathing as I sip and look out over the truly magnificent shades of blue lying open in front of me. Boats pass, jet skis zip by, my keen and trained eyesight allowing me to indulge in watching the people on the water laughing and enjoying the sport.

Finally, the phone rings so I dash to it, then hesitate, not wanting to appear too eager.

"Hello." Super-casual.

"I have a message for a Uri Dick?" Very funny.

"You can give it to me."

"Ms. Swan left a message to meet her at The Smallest Bar on Duval, eight o'clock. Do you need the address?"

With my agreement, she gives it to me before asking if I need anything else. Hanging up, I'm a bit dismayed, hoping for a restaurant which would mean she is planning on spending a bit more time with me than apparently she is. Undeterred, I check my appearance in the mirror, and in a last minute decision, style my hair the way she liked it way back when. Slightly wild, upturned and chaotic from her fingers and rolling around in her bed. She always was a sucker for my hair, like I was for her smile.

Another job hazard of mine is my need to arrive someplace before the other party. So at seven I make my way down Duval towards the address the girl gave me, not paying much attention to the music and people lining the streets as I only have one goal in mind. I make sure I've crossed the street before I get to the establishment so I may survey it and stand in a cigarette store by the magazines so I can look out the window. I can't see much from my vantage point, but it looks like a tiny place. I've noticed a lot of bars here have back patios where you can sit outside, so maybe there's some type of beer garden behind it, loaded with picnic tables and drunks. Not exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take it if this is what will make her comfortable.

After fifteen minutes, I see her coming down the street, a cute little yellow floral dress swinging around her legs, and take that as a positive sign seeing that she isn't wearing a burka. Dashing out, I cross the street and come right up to her before she gets to the bar. "Hello, Bella. You look stunning." And she does, her lips are pink and her hair is tousled.

She jumps a bit at me suddenly looming over her and backs up a smidge. "Edward." Inwardly, I pump my fist when I see her eyes snapping up to my hair, and widen just a tad. Enough that I've noticed. Her breathing stutters as well, and her lips part the tiniest bit.

 _Got ya._

I reach for her hand slowly; the feel of her skin on my fingers as I guide her hand towards my mouth is heavenly. She doesn't pull away, her eyes follow the path my lips are making towards her knuckles, and her pupils dilate when they finally make contact. I can't help but close my own, savoring the idea that I've got any part of Bella underneath my lips, something I told myself I would never - _could_ never - have again.

It feels like an eternity they rest there, until I feel her hand slipping from me, pulled behind her back like she just got slapped by a nun. "Let's get something straight, Edward. This is not a friendly get-together or God forbid if you think it's a _date_ , but this little meeting is just that. A little meeting. Hence the venue." She turns with a swing of her hips and a swish of her skirt, leaving me on the sidewalk.

As soon as I follow her inside I realize why this is called the Smallest Bar, and why she's calling it a little meeting. I practically bump into her because she's only taken two steps. And that's not because the place is crowded, or she's suddenly faint with the feel of my skin on hers, but because the bar is the size of a studio apartment closet. And I would know, I've had to hide in a few waiting for a mark. I literally reach out and touch both walls as she places her order.

"A daiquiri, please. He's paying." She thumbs towards me and the lady behind the counter starts mixing, filling a real pineapple with the concoction when she's done. So this is how Bella wants to play. She wants to make this as quick as possible, not even wanting the option to sit with me. The bartender asks me what I want and I'm still rolling over how to get Bella out of here that I haven't looked at the drink menu, a small chalkboard on the two foot long counter.

"A scotch. Balblair, please." The lady looks at me like I'm speaking a dead language. Guess I'll have to go a bit more mainstream. "Johnny Walker Blue."

"He'll have one of these." Bella raises her pineapple, and even though I'm sickened by the thought, it's not about the drink after all, so I say nothing and pay the twelve dollars. I follow Bella out onto the street, frowning at my pineapple, and sit next to where she's perched on the cement steps of what looks like a store that only sells flip-flops.

I watch her mouth as she pulls the alcohol through the straw, glad I got rid of my tension in the shower. We sit in silence for a few minutes, me fake drinking and Bella watching the people as they go by. "So," I start, only to be interrupted by a couple of girls stepping between us to go into the store.

"As I was saying," I begin again, leaning out of the way one more time for tourists. Bella cocks a brow at me, still sipping on her straw and I begin to worry that she'll get drunk, and possibly violent. This isn't how I wanted this to go at all, but I'll have to make do.

"Bella, I know there's a lot to say, a lot you don't know." She continues looking at me, not saying a word. Waiting. Balls in my court all the way and she's not going to help me out here, at all. "First of all, it was never my intention to hurt you. You have to know that."

Two giggling girls say 'excuse me' and walk between us. I'm starting to get frustrated, but I lean out of the way again. Once they've passed, I check the door to make sure no one is imminently about to step out. "Something happened…"

"Sorry, can we get through?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake." I stand and glare at the couple, suddenly in need of uncomfortable footwear at eight-thirty at night. I know the demonic look I've perfected is on my face at the way they cower and apologize, ducking into the store quickly.

Throwing my pineapple into the garbage bin at the curb _(I'm an excellent shot, of course)_ , I grab Bella's hand despite her startled protest and begin leading her down the street.

"Let me go!"

"No. I'm not going to sit on a step and try to have a conversation with you between hairy legs and knobby knees." Pulling her with me, she's following even if she's dragging her feet.

"I'll scream!"

Turning towards her in an instant, it's no mistake I press my body against hers, trapping her pineapple between us. "You won't. Because if you do, I'll kiss the ever living fuck out of you, which you'll inevitably enjoy, therefore rendering your protests useless. So if you do not wish for me to stick my tongue far down your throat in public, you'll allow me the courtesy of just ten minutes of your time without interruption."

Never one to be told what to do, Bella opens her mouth. I lean in about to shut it for her _(good and proper)_ when instead of screaming, she sticks that damn straw in her mouth and narrows her eyes. Her lips purse and she sucks, exaggerated cheeks moving in and out at the action. She drinks it all, the slurping sound at the end drawn out and obnoxious until suddenly she pulls her mouth away and grips her forehead. "Motherfucker!"

Bella is rendered incapacitated, doubled over holding her head and I'm laughing, big, loud booming laughs at what she used to describe as 'brain freezes' when she'd drink her blue slushies and vodka too fast. She tosses the pineapple in the vicinity of a trash can so I do my civic duty and throw it away properly, still laughing while she's bent over, vigorously rubbing her forehead with two hands. Normally I'd be a bit upset at the public attention we're getting, but I'm enjoying this too much to care.

She finally stands upright with one eye open and stares daggers at me. "Not my fault," I remind her. "You wanted that horrid drink."

"I needed something to deal with you. I've already had two shots of tequila at home."

Aggravated, I continue walking her down the street. "You really shouldn't put yourself in danger like that."

"Danger? The only danger is being with you. I can handle myself on a whole bottle of tequila, surrounded by frat boys, naked and playing the fiddle in the middle of the street!"

"Colorful image."

"Where are we going?"

"I told you, we need to talk." Leading her towards my hotel wasn't really my intention, but with it looming in front of me I can't think of a better place to have her alone.

"Fine, let's get this over with. You'll be in MY hotel so don't think I don't know all the escape routes, and if I yell 'help' you better bet your bippy I'll have people running to help me."

"Fair enough."

As I start to meander around the pool, I'm surprised when I feel her hand in mine pulling me away from the path we're on. "If we pass the bar, I'll feel the need to help or something. It's my night off."

Nodding my understanding, I tell her where my room is and she winds around the thick trunks of the palm trees alive with the buzz of tree frogs and insects. It's dark, the path lit by little lights next to the paved walkway, no one but us walking on its curvy trail. The air is static electricity mixed with the headiness of her Tahitian perfume, and I gently squeeze the hand she's not let go of.

My stomach tightens when she squeezes back. "Bella." My throat is thick with the salty air and the overwhelming emotion of being with her after all these painful years. She stops. I stop.

Turning slowly, there's sadness in her eyes, and I know I'm the one that put it there. What right do I have to turn up now expecting her to give me one fucking iota of her time? I _am_ an asshole. I hate that Emmett's twat of a wife is right.

My hand moves on its own accord and fingers a curl lying over the exposed collarbone above the sleeveless neckline of her sundress. "You're still so fucking beautiful I physically ache looking at you."

She blinks, her lashes starting to show the start of a watery shimmer. "I was beautiful to you then, too, or so you said."

"You always were. You've always been." _I've never stopped loving you._

Not even after I spent what would've been your eighteenth birthday killing my first client with an icepick affectionately called Pokey to the base of his skull.

Now how do you work _that_ into polite conversation?

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 _ **And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The charged mood in our alcove between the palms ends when a drunk couple comes teetering around the path, making out noisily and bumping into us. I recognize the couple from the bar the night before, and I can't help but feel a bit jealous of them and their obvious romance. Will I ever have that again? With Bella? We had that once. That 'I can't keep my hands off of you' air that sickened everyone around us.

Bella takes a step back and crosses her arms, but she doesn't realize what that does to her boobs, pushing them up like she's just offering them to me. "Let's just get this over with." She turns and I follow, shoving my hands in my pockets in frustration.

Opening the door with my key card, I can see housekeeping has been in for turndown service, the lighting is low and moody, the radio is turned to some light jazz _(that bland, elevator type that calls forth images of that curly-haired clarinet fucker I loathe)_ and the sheets are flipped over themselves invitingly. I stand in the doorway, unsure, so I let Bella decide where she's going to sit.

Instead of moving to the loveseat or even outside onto the balcony, she starts opening all of my drawers, sifting through and making a mess of the orderly items there before moving to the closet and pushing the hangers apart, inspecting each neatly hung article. I lean back against the wall and watch as she moves to the bathroom. I'm not worried about her finding any of my tools, I haven't brought any on this trip with me except for a knife that to the naked eye appears to be pocket comb and a syringe that comes dismantled, hidden as a toothbrush.

"May I ask what you're doing?"

She comes back into the room and kneels down, flipping the covers up on the bed to look beneath it. "I'm looking for clues like you did in my house."

"Oh? And what are you coming up with?"

She sits back on her heels, slapping her hands down on her thighs. "That you've turned into a neat freak perhaps with a touch of OCD if the color-coding of your shirts is any indication, you don't own a pet since there's not one dog or cat hair on anything, and you might be here on business, since who the hell brings suits to Key West?"

"Is that why you look so mad and confused? I'm a neat freak?"

"I look mad because if you _are_ here on business, that means I'm just a side trip."

"You're not. And the confused?"

She looks up at me, her brow furrowed and her little nostrils flaring. "I don't know who you are Edward. I knew who you wanted to be, I once knew everything about you. And the man I see before me doesn't add up."

I reach down to offer her a hand, but she gets up on her own, swinging over to the other side of the room by the balcony doors. I'm unsure of what to say, so I say nothing. I grab the bottle I'd opened earlier, busying my hands with glasses and pouring two.

She takes the one I offer and moves out the door, placing her glass on the post of the balcony wall standing with her back to the ocean. "The Edward I knew would never own suits. He wouldn't have a shaving kit or be here on business. He was a groupie that wanted to follow Metallica around the country and was proud to own exactly one pair of jeans. He wanted to follow me to fashion school and enter air guitar competitions. He loved it when I wore his ratty boxers and smoked too much weed, causing me to devour an entire box of Chips Ahoy and leave crumbs in his bed."

She takes a big gulp of her wine and fiddles with the stem, her eyes following her fingers as they twirl the glass. "And the Edward I knew would never, ever have left me."

"I'd still let you eat Chips Ahoy in my bed."

"Maybe I'll just steal a pair of your boxers and call it a night."

We're staring at each other, both of us waiting for me to answer her real question. "I didn't want to leave you the way I did. It kind of was decided for me." Not a _total_ lie.

"I'm not even sure exactly _how_ you left me. One minute we're talking about which t-shirt you should wear to match my Converse for graduation and the next minute, I'm walking to Pomp and Circumstance alone like every other loser we went to school with. We were supposed to be making fun of the whole thing together. Instead, you left me as pitiful as one of the crying club."

"The crying club?"

"The girls that squeal and cry fake tears, throwing their arms around your neck, saying how they'll miss you even though they never spoke to you before. Everyone feels bad for them because it's a known fact that high school is their glass ceiling."

"That sounds awful."

"It was. Becky Esposito actually made me take a picture with her stuffed bear between us."

We fall silent, and the loss of banter is an immediate reminder of what I left behind. No one could make me laugh and want to talk all night like Bella. Sitting on one of the Adirondack chairs, I rub my hand down my face. She sits next to me, tucking her feet up underneath her and holding her legs. "I know this won't mean much, but I am sorry. I'm sorrier than you can imagine." She nods, and I'm grateful that she doesn't automatically dismiss it.

"Do you remember the last couple of weeks before graduation?"

"In general or specifically with you? Cause I was stoned a lot back then."

"Specifically with us."

Her fingers twist the hem of her dress. "You started acting differently. I remember wondering if you were getting nervous, maybe about the future. I never once thought you were nervous about us, though."

Turning in my chair, I want to pull her to me but her grip tightens on her legs. "Bella, believe me when I say there was nothing I was more sure of than us."

"Then what? We had plans, were you unsure about them?"

"My plans… changed."

"And you couldn't tell me? Edward, we were supposed to leave for California the next day."

"I had every intention of leaving with you. But some things were happening, and in the end, I had no choice."

"No choice. That's about as flimsy an excuse as 'it's not you, it's me' or 'I don't want to hold you back'."

"There were some things going on that for your own good, I didn't tell you. I was hoping they would go away and not affect us in any way. But I was wrong. I have never been so wrong. Trust me when I say me leaving had absolutely nothing to do with how I felt about you. Leaving is the hardest thing I've ever had to do." Ironic, coming from a hired killer, but I continue. "Do you remember my dad at all?"

She blinks. "The man you said only existed to knock up your mother?"

"I hardly think I used the term 'knocked up' about my own mother."

"Semantics. Yes, I remember you telling me about him - or lack of him."

"I didn't tell you that he came to see me right after prom."

The look of hurt on her face stabs me, guts me like a concealed hydraulic knife tucked into a sleeve would. Bella and I had no secrets, and this is just the smallest of all the secrets I've kept from her.

"Why would you keep that from me?"

"Because… you'd hate me if you knew why he was there. Why I needed him so much those last few weeks."

She looks at me blankly. "Edward, you discussed all your problems with me. Even the icky boy ones."

"Well, this one was… ickier." Oh Bella, you're going to laugh so hard when I tell you this one! The last stages of puberty brought forth some pretty freaky changes, most noticeably, my desire to kill outweighed my desire to be the air guitar champion of Washington State, isn't that hilarious? Yeah, I don't think so.

"Unless you're about to tell me that you became a pervert that got a thrill from watching your mother undress, I think I can handle it."

"My father, well, he's in a _specialized_ business. Part of the reason he wasn't around when I was a kid. The more time I spent with him, the more I realized that it was my calling in life."

"You left me to become a priest?" she shouts, her voice reverberating around the glass walls of the balcony. "That's like, the worst thing you could become to a teenage, Cure-loving atheist."

"No, I'm not a priest. Jesus, I didn't lose my mind entirely."

"So then what? What is it Edward, what did you become that was more important that what we had planned? No, scratch that. What was so much more important that you left without a word - without a _trace_ of you? What the actual fuck?"

"I can't tell you everything tonight" And I truly can't, I'm too scared I'll really make her run from me. I don't have the balls, I'm sorry to say, and that has nothing to do with the damage she inflicted on them earlier.

"If you think I'm going to do this again with you, you're crazier than a shithouse rat."

"Bella, please." I reach for her but she tucks herself farther into her chair away from me. She's right. This is a mistake. Why did I think I could win her over with a smile and a trip down memory lane? I've become a monster, and she deserves better. She deserves the Edward I _was_ , which I'll never get back.

A knock sounds on the door, and I groan, hating the interruption. "Go away!" I yell.

"No, you know what? Answer the door Edward; I think we're done here." I start to get up to stop her, but she puts her hands out in a 'don't touch me' gesture. "I'll get the door. Maybe it's your dad coming to stop us from running away together."

She storms across the room, and I know Bella well enough to know that when she says she's done, she's done. It was always best to let her stew and get rid of her anger, except the anger wasn't usually directed at _me_. She opens the door to a porter and takes a box from him, placing it on the dresser gingerly. "Well, it's been real. A real fucking nightmare. I never would've guessed that the Edward you became would be a coward."

The door closes swiftly behind her and I'm left in a cloud of anger and Tahitian Island Dream.

Sighing, I bring the box to the bed and use my comb knife to cut a slit in the packing tape. Staring down into the cardboard, there's a metal box which can only mean one thing; Emmett has a job for me. I remember the message the front desk gave me that I ignored, telling me that he'd called. How very Emmett to make me work on a vacation he insisted I take. It was probably Rosalie's greedy pocketbook. I throw the kit on the bed and look inside the box for more. Pulling out the refrigerated, aluminum bag, I'm relieved it's arrived but it only serves to remind me what I really need to tell Bella if I want her in my life at all, and this is truly the thing that will make her run screaming.

I look at the two items on the bedspread, both things horrific and my lifeline all the same.

Will the girl of my dreams hate me because I've become a hitman?

Pulling the zipper of the pouch open, I finger the bags of blood lying deliciously within.

Or will she hate me because I've become a vampire?

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 _ **And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Well, technically, I'm not quite a vampire yet. But yes, I know what you're thinking, I know how vampire lore works and I know the stories as well as anyone that watches those tacky horror movies that air at two in the morning.

What most humans think is that our go-to line as we huddle behind our capes, ready to fling them open to engulf you into our embrace is, 'I want to suck your blood'. You believe we're all repelled by garlic when it's hanging outside your door in long ropes like you'd find in Italy or a really good delicatessen. And you also presume that as soon as the sun touches us, every one of us burns to hell in a rising plume of smoke that leaves nothing but our ashes in a pile on the ground.

None of these things are true. Well, there might be one or two of us out there that get a thrill out of saying that line to some poor, vulnerable meal right before latching onto a nice, juicy neck. Which is really not the best source of quick, hot blood, it's the femoral artery in the thigh, but I digress.

Despite the contrary, I actually enjoy the smell and taste of garlic, caramelized with some onions on a nice, rare steak. I do not own a cape because let's be honest, no one that isn't a superhero should and even _that_ is questionable. The closest reality to any of these myths is the sun one. Sunburns are universal, and we get them just like you - although we're more prone to the kind that makes you walk like your clothes hurt, hence the 50+ sunblock I apply even on cloudy days. Bella always made fun of me for that, and now I know why I was so sensitive.

I'm hoping that when I finally tell Bella all of this, she'll be open-minded enough to let me explain that it's not all gothic bloodletting and killing. Sure, there are true "pure" vampires out there that are quite feral, surviving solely on the blood and destruction of humans. They crave it, can't live without it, and will do anything to get it. There are also vampires that are a bit more civilized, living on the blood of animals because their empathy for human life lingers within them.

I, on the other hand, am an exception to both of these. But of course we knew that, didn't we?

My father is an incubus, which means he would've had sex with my human mother while she was sleeping _(quite rude)_ , and since I am half-human, half-incubus, I am what they call a _dhampir_. Dhampirs don't feed directly from humans, nor do they require as much blood as vampires do. In fact it won't be until I become a full vampire, or a Full as we call them, that my love of a good steak and a great glass of wine will diminish completely and be replaced by the desire for blood. That time will come when I choose, as it is my birthright to determine when that will be.

Here is the definition of dhampir from the _Constructed Mythology of Vampire Breeds_ , which you will not find at your local Barnes and Noble, so don't bother searching:

 **Dhampir  
A Gypsy born of human and vampiric parentage and usually male. Powers may be passed down paternally. These powers include vampire locating and hunting psionically. **_(That means psychically! Pretty cool!)_ **.**

So you see, it truly _was_ in my nature to become a hitman. What else would I do with these great powers? Hunt my own kind or God forbid, deer like a commoner?

But enough about me, I must turn my attention to Bella, and how to tell her all of this nifty stuff so that she decides I'd make an equally nifty half-breed hitman boyfriend. I'm going to have to work her over, plant myself inside her mind. I'm going to have to woo her, schmooze her, wine and dine her.

I'm going to have to seduce her.

* * *

After deciding that going to her house once she left last night was a bad idea, every hour of today I've been counting down the minutes until I know her shift starts at the bar _(I know her entire schedule, actually, which I confirmed with a slick smile to the front desk girl)_ so I can sit there without her being able to do much about it since I'm a paying guest.

I've ignored the packet Emmett sent with my supplement, as he was the one that wanted me to be on vacation, after all, so I'll get to it once I've won Bella back, which by my calculations will be in approximately three hours because surely she won't be able to resist me much longer than that.

The bar area is busy, filled with couples - including the still attached at the mouth presumed newlyweds - and a group of rowdy girls obviously here for a bachelorette party if the glowing penis necklaces are any indication. Watching from the pool area for a while, my heart thrills at seeing Bella in what appears to be her element, slinging beers, mixing drinks, laughing and talking with her customers and the other girl she's working with. I wonder how she got here, so far from the fashion career and California she wanted. Was that solely my fault? She appears happy as she's working, but maybe it's an act for tips.

Scoping out the clientele, I wait for the guy drinking alone and looking at his phone to finally get up before slipping into the now unoccupied corner stool. Wall to my back, everyone out in front of me, exactly as I prefer and am trained to do. She doesn't see me at first, which is fine as I'm enjoying watching her cutoffs climb up her tan thighs as she reaches into the beer cooler to grab a Budweiser _(ick)_. Her partner comes over and flashes me a smile, laying a cocktail napkin with the hotel logo out in front of me.

"Hey there! Here on vacation?"

Why is this everyone's first question? What else would I be doing here? Ignorant. "Yes."

"What can I get you?"

"Bella. Please and thank you." If my rudeness bothers her she doesn't show it, smiling and telling me she'll go get her. Does that happen so often that she's not surprised by my request? That's unsettling. She taps Bella on the shoulder and points my way. Bella's look is curious but hesitant as she turns, and I give a little wiggle of my fingers, clearly thinking she'll find it charming and carefree. Instead, her shoulders drop and it hurts me a bit more than it should. She finishes shaking the pink cocktails for the soon-to-be bride and her gaggle of screeching girlfriends, pouring out a neat line across a row of shot glasses. She rinses the mixer, wipes down the bar, and moves to the register, her delay in coming to me obvious and starting to irritate me.

Finally, she steps over to me and I sit up straighter, subconsciously rubbing my hands on my newly acquired linen pants, wishing I'd taken a Xanax before coming down. Despite my nerves, I get caught up in the way her hair shifts slightly around her temples from the fan circling above, the way it would in the sea air as she would hover over me, red lips puffy from my scruff and eyes glazed over as she came.

She looked like an angel then, and she looks like an angel now.

A direct contradiction to what _I_ am.

"Hello, Bella. You look like you're having fun. Do you like working here?" I'm an idiot.

"What do you want, Edward?"

Easy. "You."

"To drink?"

Equally easy. "You." Heh. She'll find that funny once she knows what I am. Her head tilts to the side and I can see that little wrinkle between her eyes starting to form. "Johnny Walker Blue. Neat."

As she's pouring my scotch over by the wall of bottles lit with blue lights from underneath that reflect on her skin in the most beautiful way, I see the other bartender looking over at me while they talk. Her face looks startled, then angry, and I can only imagine what Bella has told this friend of hers about me. I'm sure she's reserved a seat in hell for me at the wrong I've done Bella, but that seat's already been built, warmed up, and broken in long before she knew about me.

My drink gets placed in front of me and before Bella can walk away, I reach out to grab her hand. "When do you get off?"

"Only when I think of anyone but you." Her lip turns up into a smirk and I take it as a good sign that she's joking with me, even if it is at the expense of my ego and manhood.

"Bullshit."

"Fuck you."

"You used to enjoy that."

"I didn't know any better. Now I do."

I pull my hand back, taking her with me so that she's leaning over the bar, closer to me as we huddle over my drink. "I don't even want to think about you with another man."

She smiles, rubs her thumb over my hand, and I feel goosebumps. "I can draw you a picture if you want. In nice, graphic detail so you don't have to think about it at all."

My grasp on her hand tightens. "That isn't funny." Being so close to her makes me want to grab her, to clutch her hair and pull her into a kiss that will flood her brain with memories.

"It's hilarious." Her eyes are raging, sparkling with ire, and knowing she's feeling something other than indifference is encouraging. She's not pulling her hand away, so I begin to stroke the soft skin between her thumb and finger like I used to whenever I held her hand.

"Tell me you don't have a man in your life, Bella. Tell me that no one warms your bed, that no one touches you like I used to." She moves in a bit closer to me, her perfectly Bella smell invading my senses and making me almost drool with stupidity. "Tell me there's been no one but me, Bella. Tell me I'm it, because you've only been it for me."

Her breathing picks up and her eyes widen slightly at my _(surprising)_ admission, but she fooled me yesterday at her house so I don't assume I'm getting to her. I brace myself for some snappy, insulting comeback, but instead, some asshole next to me interrupts our moment asking Bella if she's okay and touching her arm. The spell is broken, and I let go of her hand, knowing how this probably looks to everyone at the bar. It's attention I do not like to receive.

"I'm fine. He's an old… acquaintance." Well, ouch.

Sneering at the guy next to us, I pull his hand off of her arm, unable to resist peeing on Bella's leg a little. "Untrue. I'm in love with her, and she's insanely in love with me. So I suggest you find some other damsel to rescue." Okay, maybe I just peed a lot. The man pales, and I know exactly how demonic I look to him right then.

"Edward!" Bella gasps as I'm staring this half-wit down. I know I'm crossing a line here and shouldn't give this guy any reason to remember me, but the vision of his hand on her skin is making my almost vampire blood boil.

"I'm sorry for my behavior," I say to the jerk with a nod of my head, even though I'm not sorry, I just don't want Bella to be upset with me for driving her business away. "Next one's on me."

"Edward!" She repeats, mouth open, her eyes wide and her hands on her cheeks, flushed with either anger or the humidity.

"What? I said I'm sorry, I'll buy the guy another-" Budweiser. Of course. "Tasteless beer."

"You can't love me!"

"Why not?"

"You left me!"

"Doesn't mean I didn't love you. I thought I explained that."

"Well you can't love me now!"

"Of course I can."

"I won't let you!"

"You have no say. What term do the rednecks use? This is 'Merica. I can do what I want."

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Her hands move to her hair and she's pulling, her feet stepping away from me as she shakes her head back and forth.

"What's the issue?" Seriously, what's the issue?

"I spent years getting over you. Years and years!" She looks like she's about to cry - or throw heavy objects. "Therapy! Shock treatments! That thing like in A Clockwork Orange where they hold your eyeballs open and show you disturbing images to remap your brain and - "

"Did it work?" I interrupt her tirade and her mouth clamps shut. "Did you forget all the good things? Did you forget what it was like to be _us_?"

"I…"

"Did you forget how it used to feel when we'd sit side by side, quiet with our heads pressed together, just looking at each other? Do you not remember what it was like when you'd jump in my car and climb across the seat to get in my lap because we couldn't stand not touching each other for even a five minute drive? Don't you recall how we'd float in the pond, buck naked and talk about nothing and everything?"

"I…"

"Are you free of me, Bella? Because I'll do everything in my power to catch you again. You'll always be mine."

"I…"

"You what?"

"I… I'm gonna throw up!" She turns quickly and runs behind the wall of bottles, her co-worker looking after her retreating form and then narrowing in on me.

"What did you do?" she says, all ready to give me hell.

Ignoring her, I leave my stool and cross behind the wall that separates the bar from the beach, walking down a roped-off path towards the closed stretch of sand. It's dark, the moonlight reflecting off the water is the only source of light, but my half-vamp and hitman trained eyes clearly see Bella leaning against a palm tree, hunched over with her hands on her knees.

Against every fiber in my being, I make noise so that I won't startle her by sliding next to her silently as I'm skilled to do. "Ahem."

She straightens, and I see her hand come up under her eye. I still, horrified that I might've made her cry. "Go away, Edward."

"Are you crying?"

"No, I threw up." Ew. "You make me vomit, Edward. That's the exact opposite reaction I think you were going for."

Well that's not good. This is not going how I planned, but I'm still only one hour into my three hour estimate of winning her back. "I'm sorry."

"For what? For showing up or for not being dead like I truly hoped you were all of these years?"

"Surely you don't mean that, Bella. How could you wish me dead?"

She turns away, showing me her back as she stares out over the water softly lapping at the shoreline. Her voice is suddenly void of its fire. "It was easier than thinking you left me because you chose to."

That's it.

Grabbing her quickly, I hoist her easily over my shoulder, an almost scream catching in her throat in a sputtering cough. I march towards my room, not caring who sees _(I'm completely defying the hitman rulebook)_ and don't let go of her until I've gotten her seated firmly in the chair she was in last night on my balcony.

Pulling my chair over with a scrape against the cement, I sit and lean my elbows on my knees, so close they're touching hers.

"So, have you ever heard of the term dhampir?"

Here goes nothing.

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 _ **And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"You're insane. _That's_ what's happened to you. You went crazy, your mother decided it was time for the loony bin and they shipped you off to have a lobotomy in some creepy asylum in New York."

"I assure you, I'm telling the truth. I'm a half-vampire, about to become a Full." It really does sound stupid, when said out loud.

"I'll be needing to call the authorities soon, I'm sure they're missing you at the nuthouse."

I get up, an eye on her to make sure she doesn't bolt, and get a bottle of the wine I've been enjoying during my stay that room service thankfully replenished. I consider bringing the bag of blood to show her, but think it might be too soon for that and I don't want her to vomit again. Carrying the bottle and two glasses back to Bella, I watch her as she watches me open and pour the wine. "I'm sure you have questions."

"Besides how you escaped your straight jacket?"

Sipping from my glass, I keep my eyes trained on her, thinking of how to convince her that I'm telling the truth without latching onto her leg to have a snack. "Bella, believe me. I wish I wasn't being so damn honest with you right now. I know it sounds ridiculous, but you have to know it would take something unbelievable like this to pry me from your side. That something out of my control _had_ to have happened," I plead. "Part of you must still have faith in that."

She says nothing for a long while, assessing me as she drinks, her eyes wandering over me like something in my appearance will give her the approval she needs to accept what I'm telling her.

"So, if you drink blood, why are you drinking wine?"

Relieved she's not running screaming from the room, I sit back. "I don't drink blood exclusively, not yet anyway. There are some things I still enjoy; red wine and scotch for their warmth, and rare meats. I dislike eating or drinking anything cold."

"So no gazpacho for you?"

"No," I laugh, hoping she's really bantering and not coming up with quips due to shock.

"It's red."

"Red isn't an appeal as much as warmth is."

She takes a healthy sip of her wine, her eyes not straying from mine as I raise the glass to my own lips. "So how did you come about this affliction? Did a bat bite you? Right before graduation? You could've just told me you didn't want to walk."

"I'm actually sad I missed that, seeing you in your blue cap and gown."

"I wore shorts underneath. With an 'I hate Edward' shirt."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." I chuckle, and she gives me a small smile, her body relaxing infinitesimally, but I see it. It's all I need to proceed and get this story over with. "As you know, my mother raised me, alone. I never knew my father, she told me that she'd had a one night stand when she was a flight attendant and never saw him again. She always tried to hide her sadness that he wasn't a part of our life, but I could see it in her eyes, and always suspected there was more to the story."

Bella's face turns from an expression that reads less like 'you're batshit crazy' into one I remember well, compassion for my mother whom she loved dearly. "Yes, that's what the story was. I never believed it either."

"As far as I knew, that was the truth."

"So you didn't know any of…" she waves her hand up and down my body. "This?"

"No. There were clues, now that I look back. Remember how I'd burn quickly in the sun? Like, stupidly fast? You'd always be the one to carry sunblock for me in your bag, knowing I wouldn't remember to bring it with us." She laughs a bit, hopefully focusing on a memory that's pleasant to her. "And how I used to eat my hamburgers-"

"Rare. The bloodier the better," she finishes, and I know she's thinking of us in the diner, taking up the big corner booth even though we sat huddled together. We would wait for that booth to open if it was occupied, as we never sat anywhere else and everyone knew it.

"Yes."

"The iron pills." Her voice is far away, her mind working and trying to come up with her own clues. That's a good sign, right? That she wants to believe me? That she's giving this admittedly ludicrous story a chance? "Your mother gave you iron pills because Dr. Banner said you were anemic."

"Ironically, I assume that was just part of my makeup, the pills never seemed to improve my levels."

"She was so worried." She sips her wine, lost in thought. Suddenly, she sputters, a bit of wine flying out of her mouth and landing on my nice, beige shirt. "Edward! Your mother! Does she… did she..."

"Know? No. Well, not until my father returned."

"So she found out when you did? I can't believe you kept all that was happening from me. Did you think I would laugh at you? Not believe you?"

"I think you're having a hard time believing me now," I point out.

"Back then, Edward, I'd have believed you if you told me Darth Vader was your father"

It's true, absolutely, and the idea that maybe I didn't need to keep her out of it pains me. "You have to understand, weird things were starting to happen to me, things I couldn't explain or put into words. I didn't know what was going on and then he just showed up, like he knew it was time."

"Time for what, exactly?"

"Well, what happens is, a dhampir always has the traits in him, but at a certain age, they start to surface. For me, it was my eighteenth birthday."

"Two weeks before graduation." Bella pulls her legs up onto the chair, circling her arms around them and holding herself.

"Yes. It's different for everyone. Some start to change immediately, some not until they're well into middle age."

"What are these traits? I can't believe I'm even considering this to be true," she huffs, but waits for an answer.

"Let's see, um, I began not sleeping. At all. Not even an hour. Remember I was always tired? You thought it was the pot." She nods, eyes curious at what I've revealed. "And I started having these feelings, like I was suddenly so angry out of nowhere and I had the urge to do something bad."

"Did you? Like, kill people?"

Oh Bella, not for sport. Only for money. "No, never. I've never drank directly from anyone." That is true.

"Hoo boy. Okay. What else?"

"Do you remember when we broke into the town pool?" She nods. "Do you remember what happened?"

She thinks a moment, her head cocked to the side and I want to kiss her. "We were swimming, and you… scared me. You sank to the bottom and didn't come up. I kept pulling on you and pulling on you, and you stayed down there. I thought you'd get brain damage from lack of oxygen."

"I didn't."

"No, you came up and I remember you being as freaked out as I was."

"That's when I discovered I didn't need to breathe that much."

"Oh, God." I nod, giving her time to let it all sink in. I can see her wheels turning, all the little instances that she can now perceive another way flashing across her face.

After a quiet while, she shifts in her chair and breathes deeply. "Ok, so say that what you're saying is true and not some massive novel you're working on, what happened next?"

"Well, my father appeared out of nowhere. You know I hated him my whole life, even though my mother told me he didn't know I existed. I know now that was a lie, 'cause there he was. So he showed up and I fought what he was telling me, fought him with everything I had, even though it answered so many questions. In the end, he guided me through it, showed me what I was. What I couldn't change. He helped me accept my destiny."

Bella finishes her wine and holds her glass out towards me. Refilling, I don't take my eyes from her as I watch her face morph and try to absorb everything I'm telling her. "So your mother knew what he was?"

"Okay, now this is going to sound weird." Bella's eyebrow rise in disbelief. "My father is an incubi, technically they're supposed to have sex and impregnate human women while they sleep, but my father told me a story about a young girl he became infatuated with and pursued for months, only to have to leave her once _his_ father found out he'd fallen in love with his intended victim. That's a big no-no. So when he resurfaced, it was heartbreaking for her, but she listened to him, listened to him tell her what he was, why he had to leave her even though he didn't want to. She confessed she always knew he was something different, but could never pinpoint it exactly, so she was more prone to believe him than I was at first."

"So your father loved your mother all this time? But had to leave her? Poor Esme." She wipes a tear from beneath her eye, and I'm struck at the amount of feeling she has inside for my mother, regardless of what we'd done to her. Like she's reading my mind, Bella speaks quietly. "I went to your house. Esme was gone, too. I was so hurt, so confused."

Somewhere inside me I've always assumed that she had gone to find me, but hearing it, I'm riddled with pain. I've suppressed thinking about what Bella might've felt all these years, telling myself that me leaving was for her own good, that I was doing it for her benefit, so she wouldn't have to make a choice. So she wouldn't have the chance to call me a monster. But to think she missed my mother just as much, well, there are no words for how sorry I am for that.

"My mother left with my father and me. She… had to make some changes to be with us." I run my hand up and down my face, a weariness I haven't felt in a long time overwhelming me.

"Are you telling me Esme is a vampire?" Bella shouts, standing from her chair in a sudden burst of movement that causes me to stand as well.

"Well, yes. So it's a family thing, you see?" I try to laugh, but it falls flat.

Bella puts her wine glass down, her hands shaking as she tucks them into the back pocket of her shorts. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Panicked, I move to grab her, but she skirts away towards the glass door. "Bella, please. We've gotten this far, don't go now."

"Edward, my head is pounding, my adrenaline is surging, my nerves are shot, and I'm probably fired for disappearing. I really just want to go home and self-medicate."

"That's not a smart choice, but I understand," I say hypocritically as I think about my bottle of blue happy pills. Crestfallen, I walk behind her as she moves towards the hotel room door. "This really is the truth, Bella. I never, _ever,_ wanted to leave you. You were my entire reason for living."

She turns, her arms wrapped around her body like a protective cocoon. She sighs, closes her eyes, shifts on her feet. Finally after a few long moments, she looks at me, and says the thing I didn't think possible.

"I believe you."

"You do?" Joy floods me, and I step towards her, but she quickly backs up.

"I believe you, doesn't mean I forgive you."

"'I'm going to do everything in my power to win your trust back."

"Do you have some weird vampire powers like making me fall under your spell?"

"Not that, exactly." Her eyes widen and her mouth opens slightly, I'm afraid I'm overdosing her with info and I have to tread lightly. "Go home, Bella, have sweet dreams. I'll pick you up in the morning."

She turns to open the door, nodding. "Wait, what?"

"I told you, I'm going to do everything I can to win you back. You didn't think I'd give up that easily, did you? dhampirs are also known for their tenacity."

* * *

Mid-morning finds me pulling up in front of Bella's bungalow, smiling from ear to ear and happier than I could've imagined. Last night went as well as could've been expected, better actually, so I'm feeling positive that my plan to get back into her affections is going to work out for me. I called on all of my hitman skills - extensive planning and plotting - and feel secure in my course of action.

The girl's not going to know what hit her.

The breeze is flowing through the open-air bus I've rented, a dilapidated aqua monstrosity once used to ferry tourists to and from the aquarium but now owned by a junkyard on the mainland. I've been up all night arranging this transportation, but I'm confident my work will pay off. Like a well-executed hit.

I'm about to get out of the bus to fetch her properly when her door opens and she walks out, her mouth open and staring in disbelief as I hang out the door, smiling.

"Good morning, Bella!"

She walks slowly to me, shaking her head. "What did you do? Where'd you get this thing?" I see her eyes starting to tear up as she reaches me, and it's all I can do not to hug her silly. "You don't play fair, Edward."

"Never said I was going to." I'm delighted when she takes my offered hand to help her up the steps, and once inside, she looks around and laughs.

"It's our bus."

"As close as I could get." I usher her to the passenger seat and pull a drink from the cooler on the floor between us. "One large Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee, three milks, two Sweet'N Low."

She takes the drink from me, a look of wonder on her face, so I pat myself on the back a little. "I suppose you won't be joining me?"

"I once promised you that you'd never drink alone. Then, it was beer, but now, it's coffee." Holding up my hot cup, I toast her and tip my Styrofoam to her plastic. A look of sadness crosses her face and I realize my mistake.

"I'm back Bella, and I'm not going anywhere this time."

She fingers the straw, but doesn't acknowledge what I've so firmly stated. "So where are we headed in this thing, anyway?"

I rev the engine of the old bus and flip my sunglasses down onto my face. "The beach, sweetheart. Where else?"

* * *

Senior year, the spring before I turned eighteen, Bella and I stole Eric Yorkie's transportation, a broken down bus he'd paid five hundred dollars for that he was determined to fix up. He'd been saying it for a year, the hunk of metal taking up space in his parents' driveway and basically being a complete eyesore in the neighborhood, its sky blue and yellow paint job a hippie's paradise. He'd finally gotten the motor running, but the windows were still glassless and the interior was pretty much gutted and void of any seating besides the driver's and passenger's seats.

We left Forks with only a note to our parents, telling them not to worry and that we'd be back after spring break. A whole week of driving with Bella's hair blowing around her head, singing along to bad AM radio, and a week of being utterly and entirely alone.

It was all I wanted, Bella by my side with the air rushing through the windows and the open road beneath us. We played house, pretended we were already out of school and on our own. Endless days of being wrapped up in each other without a care in the world.

We drove to Gold Bluffs at the tip of California, where we slept on makeshift beds in the bus, made love on the beach and smoked too much weed.

It was bliss.

My stomach knots as I look over to her now, her hair flying around her head like it did so many years ago, her bare feet resting on the cracked vinyl dashboard and a tiny smile on her face as the sun hits her just right.

I've never regretted what I've become. Transitioning into something otherworldly pretty much takes up all of your time. There was no choice, and with the changes came a state of mind that my entire life was to be this thing. This half-man. I equate it to someone finding out their cancer is in remission. An overwhelming knowledge that you have forever changed and your goal is to live the life you've been given to the fullest.

There was nothing for me _to_ do but to embrace what I was.

But being with Bella now, well, I can honestly say that I realize I can have - that I can _be_ \- both. Maybe I would've been too young to handle it properly had I tried then. Everything happens at the time it's supposed to, so maybe this is how it was supposed to go with us all along to have it work out.

"Do you remember how mad our parents were at us when we got back?" Bella takes me from my thoughts, and I look over to see her head resting on the seat and turned towards me, a devilish smile in place.

"Hours of being yelled at in your living room, I believe."

"Until they gave up."

"Until they gave up." I nod in agreement. "They knew, Bella. They knew it would do no good to keep us apart, even if we did deserve the grounding of our lives."

"They'd have had to lock me in a cell," she laughs, and it sounds so good. "I believe I threatened to Crazy Glue myself to your naked torso."

"I'd have bought the glue." I'm thankful when we trail off, lost in memory, Bella not voicing what I bet she's thinking, that she should've done exactly that.

"I have more questions."

"I don't doubt it." I brace myself for particulars, like what type blood do I prefer, where do I get it, and what role will she play when I become a Full.

"What do you do for a living?"

Fuck. Anything but that.

"Uh, well, I have a brother I work with, we run the family business in Seattle."

"You have a brother? How do you have a brother?"

"Before my father met my mother, he'd sired another child. It's the only other he has, once he set eyes on my mother, he never sired another." That's kind of sweet, actually.

"So he's like you?"

"No, he's a Full. Became one about five years ago."

"I swear I'm smoking crack in my sleep and just don't know it. Like a sleep-eater. I'm a sleep- crackhead."

"I really hope you've never tried crack. But I wouldn't put it past you."

"Huff one tube of glue and suddenly you get a rep. So what do you do for your brother? You people have jobs?"

"Yes, we have jobs. We need money just like you. He's ah… he owns an accounting firm, I work with him and his wife as a… consultant for certain businesses."

"He has a wife?"

"Yes, an insufferable twat named Rosalie."

"Is she…?"

"No, doesn't want to be."

"And that's allowed?"

I turn to her, smirking. "Is that something you're storing away for the future, Bella?" Please. Please. Please.

"Don't turn this into a conversation about us. Or lack of us, or whatever us is. And don't sulk like that."

Fine. "Yes, Rosalie knows what Emmett is, decided she liked her mortal life just fine."

"So she doesn't care that he goes out and kills people?" The repulsion in her voice makes my stomach flip. Oh, she has no idea who the killer really is in the family.

"He doesn't. A vampire doesn't have to kill people to drink. Rosalie supplies him."

"I don't know if that's a strike against equality or a notch on our belts."

"Definitely a notch. Rosalie has a lot of power over Emmett because of it. They're bound. They're mates, even though she's human. She fucking uses it, too."

"So you consult. What kind of business are you consulting about?"

Killing bad guys. Off'ing mobsters. Getting rid of garbage. I can't tell her this, not yet. It's too much. She's not ready; _I'm_ not ready, for that conversation.

"Waste management."

"Sounds awful."

"I like it. How'd you end up bartending?" It's out before I can stop it.

"Well, I kind of fell into it after trying a few different things." She's become quiet and I fear I've ruined our day before it's even started. We arrive at the intended beach, and I change the subject quickly.

"I thought this would be a good spot, it's got some privacy. Not too public. Lots of shade." I smile at her and wiggle my eyebrows.

"Oh! That reminds me." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tube. "SPF 50."

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 ** _And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace._**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Bella laughs as I pull out chairs, an umbrella, towels, and the cooler. "I don't remember you being this much of a planner. Is that one of your special powers?" I'm glad she's joking about what she seemed to have a hard time with last night, but it just makes me realize how I'm completely _not_ flying under the radar here.

"Ah, no. I think that just came with age and added responsibility." Bella points to a spot under a palm tree that has good shade for me and a healthy dose of sun for her.

"So you do age, then?"

"Do I look older?"

"You haven't changed; you look as handsome as you ever were. Maybe more and _that_ really pisses me off." I'm ecstatic from the compliment as she smiles at me and lays a towel on the sand.

"I age, but not as rapidly. Once I turn I'll stop all together. So it's like, reverse dog years. For every year you age, I age about two months."

"So if I'm 30, that means you've only aged enough to make you twenty?" she shrieks, loud enough that the people a few yards over turn to stare.

"Really only in looks. Mentally, I feel about a hundred and seven." I gesture for her to sit, and pull the cooler over between us. "Are you hungry? I had the hotel pack some food."

Bella is still sort of staring at me with a look of disgust on her face, but she sifts through the cooler and pulls out a chicken salad sandwich. "Cranberries."

"You still like those, right?"

"I do." She fingers the plastic wrap on the sandwich. "Edward, you're very overwhelming. But I suppose you always were." She nods her head yes when I pull out a beer and open it for her, then uncork a bottle of red for myself. "Isn't that chilled too much for you?"

"It'll be fine. I'll put it in the sun for a bit." Standing, I stick the bottle in the sand and begin to unbutton my shirt. I'm not consciously giving her a show on purpose _(not that I'd admit it)_ , but the look on Bella's face is slightly anticipatory, almost hungry as she's watching my fingers amble down my shirt front. "Do you have that sunblock for me?" Pulling the shirt off, I tuck it into the waistband of my shorts and stand before her waiting, hands on hips _(and flexing, let's be honest)_.

"Um, yes." Scrambling in her bag for the lotion, she has the faintest blush rising up her chest through the V-neck of her t-shirt and for the first time, I have a strong urge to lick that collarbone, nip that flesh and bite into her muscle to see what she tastes like. If I ever get my hands on her again _(which we both know I will),_ it's going to take everything in me not to sample her blood. Maybe she won't mind? It would be a first for both of us that we could share.

"Here, let me." She motions for me to turn and I feel the momentary chill of lotion on my back, then the warm, tentative fingers of her hand slowly rubbing the moisture in. I let her spread it all over, and when her hand reaches my shoulder, I grab it and turn, pressing it against my chest only to have her suck in a breath.

"Too much?" My voice is uncharacteristically nervous as I wait for her to pull away.

Her eyes reach mine and as clichéd as it sounds, electric vines rush through my body. It finally hits me that I'm standing here, with Bella, with _the love of my life_ I thought I'd never have again. If I were capable of crying _(another weird trait),_ I would.

Her hand flexes against me, like she's pushing and pulling my skin all at the same time, before she pulls away completely. "You're capable of doing your front."

"You always did my front."

"Well, you always were human. Things change. Now put it on or you'll regret it later." She plops down on her towel and shields her eyes from me behind big, black sunglasses. Well hell, she's not making this as easy as I'd hoped. "You know, you could've told me to bring a suit," she complains.

"Ah, but Bella, don't you realize I took you to one of the only nude beaches in the Keys?"

"This is Anne's Beach? Oh, hell no."

"You used to love being naked on the sand."

"I also used to love you, so again, things change." She smirks, so I let the dig slide. "Let's just keep our clothes on and enjoy the day, all right?"

"Whatever you want, Bella."

Forever.

* * *

We've spent a few lazy hours lying under the palm trees, Bella is tipsy from the beer so she's convinced me to slather on a new round of sunscreen and join her for a walk along the water's edge to sober up. The crowd has thinned a bit, except for a few hardcore, nude men that I'd actually prefer to see in the dreaded speedo.

The sand is white beneath our feet, the water bluer than anything I've ever seen, but all I see is Bella, her hair in a knot on her head and her nose starting to pink from the sun. This moment reminds me of us so long ago, walking along the water at La Push in silence after her mother died, me holding her tightly as she cried into my Metallica shirt. Even though it was my favorite, I didn't mind, because I loved her so much. The memory makes me reach for her hand instinctively, and I'm thrilled when she doesn't pull away, but entwines our fingers together.

Having her hand in mine is like the warmest sunny day, the most beautiful piece of music. It's putting on a favorite sweatshirt after you thought you'd lost it forever and find the fit is still perfect.

"You're awfully quiet," she says, giving my hand a little squeeze.

"I'm just relishing this moment with you. I… never dreamed I'd be holding your hand again. It's kind of taking my breath away." She hums, neither confirming nor denying it's the same for her. "So tell me a bit about what happened after I left. Not the 'you hate me' part or the 'you left me and all my dreams to die' part. Something a little less painful that brought you here."

She laughs and pulls the clip from her hair, making the strands sway and brush my shoulder. "Let's see. After a very unfortunate time in my life that I thought I'd never live through," she side-eyes me before continuing, the smile still on her face. "I gave fashion a try but quickly realized it wasn't for me. So no, you didn't take that away from me, if that's what you've been thinking."

Relief rolls in like the tide, but I wait for her to tell me more. "I didn't go to California, I just couldn't. So I went to New York, then Georgia, then I found Key West and I don't know, I never left. It felt good."

"It was different," I surmise.

She nods. "It was completely different. Warm, sunny, nothing reminded me of you, and I'm not saying that to stick a dagger in your heart or anything, but it's part of the story. So I came down here and got a job waitressing, then selling tourists booze cruise tickets, until I met Kate, the girl I work with at the bar. That's about it."

The image of Bella sticking a dagger in someone is sort of hot, but I keep it to myself. Today is going well, and that other hitman shoe is still hovering above, waiting to drop and flatten all of my newfound hopes to shit. "So you stayed and bought that house? That's quite an accomplishment."

"Part of the money my mother left me. It paid for my travels, got me here. I like bartending. I like meeting people that are passing through, everyone is usually in a good mood." Our hands move with her shrug. "I'm good at it."

"You are."

"You've watched me twice for about ten minutes each."

"Uh, not exactly." She stares at me. "If we're being honest with each other completely from here on out, I watched you for a while before I came to sit."

"That's creepy."

"I'm a creepy guy."

"You said it, not me." She turns us so we're headed back in the direction we came, and splashes me a bit with her foot.

"I don't like cold things, Bella." I growl, ready to pounce.

"The water is about eighty degrees, Edward." She starts backing up while I crouch down, ready to attack. "Don't you dare!"

It's a familiar warning, one she gave me every weekend at the beach. It's one I also always ignored. Lunging towards her, I grab her and lift her over my shoulder much like I did the night before, but this time she's squealing in delight and pounding on my back. I carry us further into the water and threaten to drop her, but she clings to me with her arms and legs and screams at me to not let her fall. She's laughing, I'm laughing, and it's just about the best moment I could've never planned.

I swing her around, the water kicking up and dousing us both, until she's laughing so hard she starts to hiccup, but I don't put her down. I carry her all the way back to our towels, and stand her upright, making sure she doesn't topple over dizzy. She's making that sound you make when you're coming down from a belly laugh in between hiccups which makes us both start to laugh again. Finally, she holds her breath and squeezes her eyes shut, repeating it a few times until her diaphragm stops its spasms.

"I haven't laughed that hard in a long time." She's wiping at her eyes with an occasional bubble of leftover giggling breaking free. "It feels good."

"It does," I agree, a stupid grin on my face and my cheeks hurt from so much mirth.

We stare at each other; Bella's breathing beginning to slow while mine has never really picked up. Another reminder that we're not the same Bella and Edward from that long lost eternity ago.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"I think I still haven't forgiven you."

"What can I do?"

"Keep trying."

* * *

With a weird sort of hug at her door, I tell Bella thanks for the lovely day and I'll see her soon, but make no immediate plan to see her again. Her eyebrows are knit together, but she nods her head and takes one last look at the bus before thanking me with a cute little smile.

I know she's confused, but I'm doing it on purpose. A seduction doesn't work if the other person realizes they're being seduced.

The last hurdle as I see it, because she's already falling for me again, is to tell her what I do for a living. There's really no easy way to say it or ease someone into understanding the artistry behind what I do, I can't exactly show her examples of my work like a painter can. All I can hope for is if she is willing to accept what I am, and so far she seems to, she'll accept how I make a living. Besides, Bella never was a die-hard liberal or anything, she believes in the death penalty and doesn't get off on hugging trees. Maybe she'll understand that some people have to die, especially the type I dispose of.

Speaking of work, after a shower ( _with Tahiti Island_ _Dream body wash – again, reserve your judgement_ ) I take Emmett's file out onto the balcony with a scotch from the mini-bar ( _sub-par brand, I must speak to the hotel staff_ ) to see exactly what - or who - is so pressing that he decided I need to work on a vacation that he insisted upon.

The jet skiers and boaters are out again in full to catch the sunset, a beautiful mix of pinks, purples, and golds I've never witnessed before, and I wish I'd had the sense to take Bella out on the water to enjoy it with her. But she's working tonight which suits me just fine. A night spent watching Bella reach for beer and open bottles with the edge of her shirt is a night well spent, in my opinion.

Opening the file, there's the familiar packet Emmett always presents, clipped together and topped by a note:

 _Hello, Edward!_

 _Rosalie and I hope you're having a great time on vacation, being mindful of the sun and not being a  
_ _complete douchebag to others vacationing around you._ (Prick.)

 _I realize that it was Rosalie's and my idea to have you actually go on this vacation, so I'm sorry to have  
to drop this in your lap, but it's an opportunity I think you'll agree cannot be passed up. Let's just say, this  
job is one we've been waiting for, Jonah. He's our whale. _(I'm intrigued.)

 _No need to rush home after, as the next job won't be for a while and might require you to travel anyway,  
so you might as well enjoy your time off until then. I'll send you some more sustenance, but in the meantime eat  
some steak, drink some whiskey, and get laid, will ya? Rosalie stresses that last part. _(As any nympho would.)

 _Speaking of, we're having a grand ol' time down here in NOLA_ (knew it) _, and have not been arrested yet  
for public indecency. You should visit once you become a Full - there's a great number of us here and it's  
like a convention, but without the handouts and cheap buffet food. _

_Your favorite brother and sister-in-law_ (um….) _,_

 _Emmett and Rosalie_

 _P.S. Truly. Get laid._

I quickly ball up the note and set it on fire over the toilet _(not because it's routine, but because I don't want to accidentally read about their adventures again)_ , before returning to the packet. Pulling out a decent sized stack of paper, I begin reading about the mark Emmett was sure I'd be thrilled to interrupt my vacation for. In his defense, he probably thinks I'm bored silly as he has no idea that my plans included getting my old girlfriend back. I just hope that this won't take too much time away from wooing her. 'Hey Bella, care to accompany me on a stakeout? Mind any stray bullets that may come your way.' I doubt she would see that as a fun date.

Flipping through the pages, my adrenaline begins to surge once I realize what I'm looking at. With each new piece of information I find myself sitting up straighter, my whole body electrified. I can barely contain my excitement; I haven't been this ready for a hit in a long, long time.

Finally, after a year of aggravation, Emmett has found the thorn in my side.

Rivalries are rare in my line of work, there are enough people willing to pay a professional to kill those that have wronged them that there isn't much overlap or stealing of clients. However, there's one man that is the Moriarty to my Holmes, the Voldemort to my Potter, the Kanye to my Swift. A man that gets hired almost as much as I do, and as we all know, that gives a blow to my ego.

Emmett has finally found me The Jazzman _(puh-lease. Only a tool would have a nickname, I bet he gave it to himself)._

With shaking hands filled with anticipation, I flip to the page that holds his picture and close my eyes to savor the moment. After taking a ritualistic deep breath to let the feeling linger as long as possible, I feast my eyes on the man that stole that Colombian drug lord out from under me in a blatant explosion ( _a ridiculous act of_ _nonprofessional showboating_ ), the man that got the much coveted Chinese mob boss job _(big money)_ , and the man that's been attempting to lower my numbers for the better part of the last year.

And all I can think is: you gotta be fucking kidding me.

He's right there in picture after picture - exiting a car, entering a building, and buying a falafel from a street vendor. My damn rival is none other than the kissing bandit I've been watching make disgusting public displays with his woman for the better part of three days.

This is the hotshot killer encroaching on my territory? The blond guy with a dated perm who wears pukka beads and Hawaiian shirts while he eats the face off of his companion? I pause, momentarily distracted by that. Either the bane of my existence is enjoying a personal life _(which part of me wants to question him about before I kill him)_ , or he's on a job and using a prop to get the work done which would cement the fact that he's an amateur.

What's really intriguing though is who exactly is ordering this hit? Emmett would never seek out this job on his own to make me happy, especially while he's enjoying Rosalie's nether-regions _(shudder)_ , so it has to be someone with enough balls to want to hit a hitman.

I quickly look at the price on his head and my eyebrows fly up into my hairline. Damn. Someone wants this kid dead in a very expensive way. Like double up the amount of bullets or get a bigger knife kind of way.

Scanning the rest of the info, I'm not surprised that it lists his home state as Washington, something I assumed from the amount of work he's tried to take from me. It could only mean he was close by and networking with the same clientele, which is even more reason I need him gone.

The room is registered under the name Alice Whitlock, presumably the female he's with. The second name tied to the room is… oh you've got to be kidding me. Vincent Vega. The hitman made famous by John Travolta ( _sad, what's happened to his hair_ ). As ridiculous as that is, at least it cements the fact that this guy is an idiot and worthy of killing for that stupidity alone.

This embarrassment to the art of the hired killer has no idea how easy he's made this job for me. I'm almost upset at how quickly this is going to go, but then again, this won't take any time from romancing Bella at all. To be considerate of her job, I'll make sure I don't do it on hotel property. Although perhaps a murder would garner the hotel closed, giving her a few days off, no?

* * *

Finding out what room Mr. Idiot is in doesn't take any effort at all, but I'm more than a little perturbed to find that he's in the room directly below me. I think back to my conversations with Bella on the patio and realize the one that was most revealing was just last night, after I had witnessed him and his skank at the bar. Hopefully he stayed there well past when Bella left. I hadn't heard anyone entering the room below while we were talking, and I should trust my half-vamp hearing, but I mentally scold myself to be more careful.

I frown, wondering if I really can mix Bella and my occupation. I've already slipped up a number of times with my golden rule of staying inconspicuous, a problem that I must correct, especially now that I know he's here. I have two advantages, as I see it. One, I know who he is, and two; he seems to be more preoccupied than I am if the hickies I saw on his lady friend's neck are any indication.

Ringing his room, there's no answer so I take the bag of goodies Emmett sent with the packet and O positive bag of deliciousness, and fish out my best, inconspicuous telescopic camera. Just because he didn't answer doesn't mean he's not in there giving it to that woman good, something I'd probably find enjoyable spying on if it was anyone else but this doofus.

Sliding the balcony door open slowly and quietly, I step carefully out onto the cement so as not to make any noise and head to the glass partition. Sitting on the floor, I fish the tiny camera down through the inch-wide opening towards his balcony, using the remote switches to angle the flexible gooseneck as I watch on the screen attached. I'm careful to stay on the side and along the underneath of my own, staying out of eyesight should anyone be there. The camera shows no movement on the deck, so I move it further to see through the wide open sliding door. I know I've let Bella distract me, but this guy _is_ as bad a hitman as I believe because he truly doesn't remember the most important golden rule: you're a hitman 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

That means closing your fucking doors, jerkoff.

The camera shows no one in the room, and the bathroom door is open, revealing it to be empty as well. Pulling up my equipment, I change into one of the ridiculous flowered shirts the salesgirl talked me into and slip on my swimsuit, fedora and sunglasses. Using the hotel's welcoming gift bag _(sunset themed, how original)_ , I place some surveillance equipment under a towel and stuff two latex gloves in my pocket before making my way out of my room and towards the staircase that will bring me to the moron's floor.

Slipping a five into the vending machine at the end of the hall, I take my time selecting a beverage I won't drink and observe the lay of the land for a few moments. The hall is empty, no noticeable sounds or people moving about, so I head to his door and press my ear against it. There's no noise from within, and a knock confirms it is still empty.

Putting on the gloves and making quick work of the digital lock's bypass mechanism under the housing unit _(you wouldn't believe how easy this is with a few wires and a small circuit board hidden in an empty marker casing - YouTube it)_ , I enter and close the door like a shadow. Remaining pressed up against it; I survey the room quickly and start gathering evidence about my mark. The most obvious of all is that he's a complete and utter slob. Another reason to off the guy as he's giving the whole profession a bad name. Pulling out my infrared detector and radio receiver, the room shows no sign of bugs or cameras in the room.

Stepping lightly and avoiding the clothes _(oh God, is that a used condom?)_ strewn on the floor, I glance across the dresser top and desk, seeing only what appears to be feminine articles, clearly his companion's items, but I pick up the curling iron, _Hello Kitty!_ makeup brush kit and an eyelash curler to see if they could be hidden weapons such as I have, but they're clean. I open every drawer; go through every article in the closet and rifle through the nightstands, finding nothing. After a bathroom search, I stand and close my eyes, imagining my target and what I know about him _(regrettably little)_. Images and ideas swirl through my mind before I scan the room and focus in on the painting hanging over the minibar - an unmistakable _(to me, because I'm a brilliant spy)_ print of the Hawaiian Islands.

Apparently I do not have the same decorator as my hotel mate, a decorator who seems to feel that the Keys are _not_ the way to embellish the walls of a hotel located _in_ the Keys. Plus, there is no picture over my minibar. Out of my tacky tourist bag I grab my laser illuminator which can tell me if an object is loaded with a trip wire and I'm about to be blown to bits.

With no indication that the picture is rigged, I pull it away from the wall slowly and peer behind it, only to see a gaping hole. Shaking my head, I remove the picture revealing that this asshole actually cut a hidey hole into the fucking drywall. If you're a hitman that can't figure out where to stash your shit without leaving a trace, you _really_ should rethink your career path.

Inside, are very rudimentary weapons - a handgun, silencer, and a knife. That's it. There's always the chance he has a weapon on him, but considering what he's been wearing there isn't much room for anything unless you're super creative _(like me)_ and your cell phone case is also a poisonous dart gun while your sunglasses hold a camera and rearview mirror.

Putting the picture back, I toy with the idea of leaving a rude note about the destruction but think better of it to protect the maid he'd surely blame. Quickly moving throughout the room, I place four pinhole cameras behind objects he should have no business with - the smoke detector, outside wall lamp, the top of the bathroom mirror, and the door hinge. Four different angles I'll be able to monitor not twelve feet above him. Even though I doubt he'd be able to find them on his own, I make sure to use my undetectable equipment specially designed for me by Emmett's friend at the CIA _(terrible gambling debts with the mob, I helped him solve the issue)._

With one last sweep of the room to make sure I left no evidence, I listen for noise outside in the hallway. Giggling followed by a squeal tells me it's most likely my couple, so I head back out onto the balcony and climb onto the glass rail. Reaching above me for the gap under my own, I pull myself up and scramble quickly so that I'm standing on the outside of my ledge and go no further because his lover _(awful word)_ has just come out the door onto their own deck and I don't want her to hear me. A swift check of my surroundings tells me there's no one in a position to see me, so after a few moments of her putting her damp suit on the railing to dry, I'm able to climb over onto my balcony _(that was fun)_.

Opening my laptop, I log on and see my placement was successful _(like there was any doubt)_ and I can see and hear everything going on below me.

Forty five minutes later, after one blow job, a shower, maid service _(thank God and poor woman)_ and a cigarette break, the couple change into slightly more formal attire. The chit chat has been basic, the perfunctory vacation talk and some vulgar sex replay, before discussions begin about where to dine for the evening. On their way out the door, lamebrain doesn't even look at the Hawaii picture, let alone touch it, so it appears that he is in full-on vacation mode. A luxury I've never afforded myself and I feel a bit jealous that he's able to turn his life on a dime from one factor to another. Is it just me that thought this whole time I needed to embrace the hitman lifestyle and that's it? Or is it because of what I am that I take it so seriously? I hate to admit it, but he seems awfully happy, something I haven't been in a long time. Until now.

Will I ever be able to just change modes on and off at whim? Could I ever take Bella away on a nice trip and not be the hired killer that lives inside and clings to every atom of what I am? Closing the laptop a little harder than necessary, I stew a bit before deciding that if this nincompoop can do it, so can I.

I am Edward Cullen, Dhampir Assassin, for Christ's sake. I can do anything.

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 ** _And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace._**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

After a meal of nicely prepared, rare steak drizzled with a smooth blood sauce, Bella's smile warms me thoroughly as I take my corner seat at the bar. Even though we had a great day, it's still a nice feeling knowing that she's letting go of her ire towards me.

"Hello, beautiful." Her blush says it all as she lays a cocktail napkin out in front of me.

"Wine or scotch?"

"Surprise me." She smirks and struts away, possibly throwing a little extra oomph into her walk knowing I'm watching. Her friend joins her at the bottle display and says something, to which Bella nods and looks towards me. The friend scowls, but doesn't say anything as she walks away from where I am.

"Our best, Macallan 25 Year." The glass gets set in front of me and I'm happy to see Bella rest her elbows on the bar instead of running off.

"Your friend doesn't like me much, hmm?"

Bella looks over her shoulder and shrugs. "Kate's protective. She went through something of a bad breakup herself before we met. She's been kind of bitter since then, but she means well."

"I guess she's no fan of what we're doing." Taking a sip, the burn flows down my throat beautifully and I'm instantly relaxed by the liquor and the company, my mind straying from the jackass and my new assignment.

"What _are_ we doing?" Bella props her chin on her hand and looks at me with a gleam in her eye.

We're falling madly, hopelessly back in love. "We're reconnecting. In fact, when you get off here I've got plans for us."

Bella just hums before she's called away by Kate to help change a keg. While she's busy, I people watch and relax, completely at ease in a way that's foreign. I can see why Bella likes it here. The weather is certainly pleasant, and the easy vibe from being in a vacationer's paradise is palpable. I wonder what it would be like to live here full-time?

Choking on a sip, it occurs to me that I haven't thought past my grand scheme of getting Bella back. What comes next? I mean, she still needs to learn of my occupation because it's not one I'm willing to give up if she intends to be with me. I couldn't ask her to move for me after all I've done to her, but could I relocate down here? Work remotely like a finance consultant or Mary Kay saleswoman?

The amount of money I'd spend on sunscreen alone would have to garner a much bigger cut from Emmett and his evil better half that runs the books. Not to mention having blood shipped down regularly. Unless Bella was willing…

Before I can even travel down that rabbit hole, my sixth sense picks up the fact that my mark is entering the bar area, his wife or whatever she is hanging on him like she'd rather go immediately to the room. I'm uneasy with being in such close proximity, but I'll have to use this to my advantage. I certainly cannot just leave Bella right now if I plan to stay in her good graces.

They sit in their normal seats on the other side, which allows me to observe him somewhat from a distance. It's not my normal MO, but maybe this will benefit me in some way, scoping him out while in plain sight. Bella moves to say hello and I watch her chat with them for a minute, all three laughing while the nitwit rubs his stomach and makes an 'I'm full' face like a cartoon character. They order some drinks and as soon as Bella turns to prepare them, I catch the little brunette checking out her ass before turning back to her companion that's chatting with a woman next to them. Can't say I blame her, Bella does have a fine ass.

Even though the main part of my brain is focused on watching his every move to garner as much intel as possible, the part of me that's newly pre-occupied with romance is fascinated with his ability to be more than one thing. He's making mistakes left and right; sitting with his back to the world, not trying to remain inconspicuous _(in fact, just the opposite as he laughs too loud and gestures too large)_ , and engaging with other people. But he sure looks damn carefree.

The bar picks up with customers returning from dinner or their excursions out sight-seeing, so I order another scotch and watch Bella hustle, all the while observing jerkoff to pick up anything useful.

He's left-handed, has a habit of playing with a mustache that isn't there, and has holes in his ears, but no earrings. When his girl says anything remotely funny, he rubs her back twice in a circle. When conversation lulls he tends to fiddle with the glass in front of him. When someone new slides onto a stool next to him, he finally shows what he is by looking the person up and down, zeroing in on the hands _(you can tell what sort of work a person does by their hands)_ , the waistline _(hidden weapons)_ , and shoes _(what their plans might be or where they've been)_.

Even though he does these things, I'm still not convinced he's as good as he thinks he is, but wonder if maybe he _is_ here on a job.

"Hey, you're deep in thought." Bella waves her hand in front of my face, alerting me to the fact that I've been staring at lamebrain too long.

"Sorry, was thinking about you."

"Bullshit."

"I think about you twenty four hours a day. Always have."

Bella blows her hair off her forehead and shifts, seemingly self-conscious. "Jesus, Edward. What if this doesn't work out the way you want?" She waves a hand between us.

A smile creeps across my face, slow and predatory as I narrow my eyes at her and make a clucking sound. "It already has, Bella. You just haven't accepted it yet." I take her hand and massage the skin between her thumb and finger. She watches as I bring her hand to my mouth, the same glazed look crossing her features similar to the other night when I did the same thing.

"But you will."

* * *

The bar closes at 1 a.m.; long after dumb fucker and his possible bisexual girlfriend have left to go do whatever it is they were starting under their clothing while sitting in plain sight.

I'm waiting for Bella to get off work, and despite the side-eyes Kate's been giving me all night, she tells us to go ahead and leave, that she'll finish up. I thank her kindly despite the stink face she's throwing. It appears I'll have to woo Bella's friend a little, too, if things work out.

"I have my moped." Bella says as she lets me lead her towards the employee parking lot with my hand lightly touching her back.

"That works." We reach the red scooter and I grab the helmet hanging from the handlebars.

Sticking it on her head, she's adorable and I can't help but continue putting it on for her, brushing the underside of her chin while I secure the clasp. "You don't have one," she worries.

"I don't need one."

"Oh, right. You can't die," she says matter-of-factly, which I love.

"No, I still can until I become a Full, I'm just a really good driver."

"And so humble."

I smile at her as I sit on the seat, leaving room for her in front of me instead of behind. "Hop on, babe." I know she's thinking of the hundreds of times she rode on my BMX handles before I had a car, her back nestled against my chest secure in the crook of my arms as I'd wheel us all over Forks. But I can only think of one.

It was a gray afternoon, but the best afternoon. Bella jumped off the front of my bike before I stopped completely, causing her to fall and the front tire to roll over her ankle. Throwing the bike down, I hovered over her, wanting to touch the sore spots but unsure how she'd take it as we'd only recently proclaimed our crushes on each other. There were tears in her eyes as she rubbed her foot, but when I finally touched it to soothe her pain, her crying lessened. I rubbed and looked at her, so pretty with her hair a mess and streaks running down her red cheeks. I said that out loud to her, how she was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, and Bella did what I was too scared to do.

On a pile of rocks and weeds on an old dirt road, Bella kissed me first.

My memories fade as we're trucking down Duval, making our way through late night revelers, Bella nestled against me, an act my body still responds to. We reach the quieter streets and snake our way to her bungalow, the mood shifting along with the encroaching blanket of quieter night air surrounding us.

She leans back further into me, seemingly not bothered by the closeness, the closest we've been physically in years. Not wanting the ride to end, I slow the moped to a loping, lazy pace, resting my chin on her shoulder. Her head tips back, our cheeks touching as the insects and nocturnal creatures provide the soundtrack to our little dance.

"You know what I miss most of all?" she whisper-speaks, loud enough for me to hear over the purr of the engine.

"What's that, love?"

"How I didn't have to think around you. It just… was."

"And you're thinking now?"

"Too much."

"Don't. Just _be_."

"I want to, Edward. I do. But I can't go back to that place again. The despair and gloom. The misery and soul-crushing ache. I won't."

The moped pulls up onto the pavement of her driveway, over the cracks in the cement that sprout plant life and the occasional fallen clump of Spanish moss from the towering tree above us. Cutting the engine, my arms fall around her naturally, welcoming her home against my heart. "I will never, ever, break you again. Trust me; it's not a place I want to revisit either."

"You were that upset? I thought you were more focused on becoming what you were becoming."

I pull back from her which causes her to turn in my arms. The moonlight snaking through the flora above us is dim, but lights her face just enough that she's more beautiful than she's ever been. Slowly, I bring my hands up to her cheeks, holding her there and brushing the soft hair at her temples with my thumbs. "Don't ever doubt that leaving you was the most painful thing I've ever done. Even though I made a choice, it doesn't mean that it didn't break a piece of me permanently and leave a soul-ripping scar."

The way she's looking at me, she'd let me kiss her, right now, I'm sure of it. But I press my forehead against hers instead, knowing that for this to be right, she has to be ready.

Her breath is warm against me, her smell all around us. "You said you loved me the other night. How can you be so sure?"

"I absolutely love you."

She sucks in a breath, the familiar words from a teenage boy quoting David Bowie still affects her the way I hoped they would. It was my go-to line, the one thing I knew without a doubt back then, and it's the same now.

"I'm not there yet, Edward. I still have a bit of a steel cage protecting my heart where you're concerned."

"I'm okay with that." We stay that way, eyes closed and feeling skin against skin, until I remember what I had planned. Breaking away from her is torture, but I hold the scooter steady as she climbs off and puts the helmet back on the handlebars.

"Come in? It's still early." She pulls on my hand as I stand and set the moped on its kickstand.

"I wasn't leaving." Grinning, I follow her up the steps and stand behind her as she fumbles with the keys in the lock. It's a Schlage single cylinder, one I could easily break into for her, but I curb my urge to do so and wait for her to finally open the door.

"Sorry, it's been giving me trouble."

"No problem." That's getting replaced immediately.

"Drink? I have some red, not sure if it's any good."

"It'll be fine." She walks towards the kitchen and I grin like a loon at her old habit of opening the fridge to quickly scan its contents before shutting it and moving on. She roots around in a cupboard and shoves a cracker in her mouth, chewing while searching for a bottle opener. "Did you eat?" I call out, realizing I didn't see her take a break tonight.

"Yeah, I stole half of Kate's sandwich. I'm just snacking. Want one?"

"I'll pass."

"They're not cold," she teases and throws me the box which, I, of course, catch single-handedly without effort.

"Garlic. Are you trying to be funny?"

"Maybe."

"Well, jokes on you. I happen to love garlic." Opening the box, I shovel three crackers in and chew. "But they are dry," I manage to say once I've swallowed all the crumbs.

Bella laughs and returns to the living room with two glasses, giving one to me as she tucks her feet under her to sit on the couch as was her habit. "Any kind of cracker spread I may have, however, _is_ cold, sorry."

We sit and sip, my hand on the couch between us aching to reach out and slip a finger up the leg of her shorts. "Can I play some music?" Holding up my phone, I stand when she nods and move to the kitchen, placing the phone into the dock and searching for what I want. The first notes of _So Tonight That I Might Sleep_ play as I return to her and she smiles.

"Great album."

"Yes. One of your favorites, if I remember correctly." Of _course_ I'm remembering correctly. We listen in silence for a while, lost in thoughts and memories. Step one of my plan is complete, and here comes step two. "Do you remember what we did one Saturday, listening to this album?"

Bella widens her eyes. "I'm sure we did that more than once to this album."

Laughing, I pull out five markers from my cargo shorts pocket. "The other thing."

She looks from the markers to me, recognition dawning on her perfect face. "Oh, wow." I put my wine down and take her hand, gently pulling so that her arm is stretched out between us as I shift back and lie on my side.

Pulling the black marker cap off with my teeth, I concentrate on her arm and begin tracing lines across her skin. Up and over, left and right, a spindly vine begins to form. I can feel her trembling slightly, so I rub the inside of her elbow gently as I continue drawing the plant and let the cap drop onto the couch. "It was your seventeenth birthday, and you wanted a tattoo."

I begin drawing the leaves, the veins of the frond covering her own. "Your mother said no."

Flowering buds are next, softly cascading from the vine as I continue to caress her skin with my free hand. "'Just a little one', you begged. 'It'll be my present'."

I draw the petals gently, moving her arm the way I need in order to give her flowers everywhere. "She wouldn't give in, but you thought you could get her to change her mind."

The shape of a parrot begins to emerge from a flower, its wings about to take flight as Bella's pulse quickens under my touch. "You were so tenacious; you taped pictures of tattoos on every surface of your house."

The bird gets a solitary black eye, then some feathers. "It was the standoff to end all standoffs."

Her arm is an explosion of black marks, swirling and travelling from her wrist to her bicep. Placing the marker down and grabbing the green, I begin filling in the color on the bottom stalk. "Despite your strong will, you would never go against an action your mother strictly forbade."

The vine becomes vibrant, a living, breathing snake winding itself around her skin. "You cried in my bedroom, you were so sad and upset."

The flowers turn purple, each petal lovingly painted. "I wanted to fix anything that made my Bella cry."

The bird's feathers get a light dusting of yellow and red, rising above the flowers majestically. "So I grabbed my markers, laid you down on my bed, and began to draw."

A small scattering of blue stars fill in around the leaves, flowers, and bird now covering Bella's left arm. "I wasn't going to let your birthday pass without you getting what you wanted. I was going to give it to you the only way I could."

She's staring at me when I finally look up at her, a tear rolling down her cheek while her mouth is parted slightly. "I'd do anything to make you happy again. Then, and now."

She slides down so that she's eye level with me. I haven't let go of her arm, my thumb still stroking the soft skin at the crook. "You still draw so well," she whispers.

"Only on you. You're the perfect canvas. Tell me, did you ever get your tattoo?"

"No. Nothing would've compared," she's so quiet as she says this, like she's giving me too much. "Edward?"

"Yes?"

Bella suddenly shifts and brings her face right up to me. She hesitates, both eyes searching mine, before she leans in and places the softest kiss on my lips. I don't push, don't beg for more, just let her remain still with our mouths lightly touching. It doesn't go deeper, but it doesn't need to.

Bella kissed me first.

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 ** _And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace._**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The next morning, I'm whistling happily as I run on the hotel gym's treadmill. I don't normally work out in public - my crazy hours and lack of wanting anyone in my building's gym to know me has made owning my own equipment a necessity. But with a job looming and no equipment in my room, I have no choice if I want to remain in shape. I should probably stop whistling, though, as the woman on the elliptical is smiling at me and doing her best to look sexy as she works out.

It's not hard to divert my eyes, as every ounce of attraction I have for the female form is directed at Bella.

I haven't been able to get that kiss, as innocent as it was, out of my mind. Her making that step is huge, which is why I left shortly after. I'm playing this smart, giving her time and space while seducing her silly and it seems to be working.

After returning to my room and showering _(I behaved myself),_ I decide to send Bella a little text now that she's shared her number with me. It's more work than I thought as I pace the floor, trying to find the perfect mix of what to say and what mood to convey in a little phrase. The extent of my texting is mostly directed towards Emmett, on the few occasions we have to speak outside the confines of work _(because we never discuss business over cell)_ to arrange the rare social plan or when I want to insult his wife.

I finally decide on 'good morning, beautiful' because it's exactly what I'd say if I were with her right now, waking up beside her adorably tousled head on warm, Tahiti Island Dream-scented sheets.

Holding the phone waiting for a response, I'm as giddy as a schoolboy. I can't wait to see her again, and short of writing her name in hearts on my notebook, I feel like I'm back to being seventeen when the whole universe revolved around her.

I want to sneak into her room like I did so many times after saying goodbye for the night at her parents' orders. I want to hold her close to me as we walk and have her tuck her hand into my back pocket like she used to. I want to feel her body pressed against me, warm and flushed, her skin damp from rolling around for hours in my bed after ditching school for the afternoon.

My phone beeps with a text and I nearly drop it I'm so excited to see what she wrote back. I fight the urge to pull the phone up to my chest and squeal before looking at it.

' _Who is this?'_

Seriously? ' _Seriously?'_

' _Yes.'_

' _Who would be texting you 'good morning beautiful'?'_

' _Any number of admirers_.' Okay, she's fucking with me.

' _None are as enamored of you as I am.'_

' _Good morning, Edward.'_

' _Good morning, beautiful.'_

My face hurts I'm grinning so big, but I leave it there, knowing I'll see her in about two hours. She's working this afternoon but has the night off, so I'll do some research and find a restaurant tucked away somewhere for a nice, romantic meal.

Work has to fit in though before I can relax for the evening, so first, I have to check on my cretin neighbor below and see what _he_ has planned for today. The quicker I dispose of him, the faster I can go back to my vacation and my pursuit of Bella's heart.

Keeping one eye closed, I open my laptop to check on the cameras I'd placed in his room hoping to not see his white ass prominently displayed as he gets it on with his girl. I'm in luck; they're eating room service in their swimsuits, chatting idly about going to the hotel's small beach for the day.

They don't seem to be in any hurry, so I take the morning to clean and check my weapons, something I should've done as soon as I received them but ignored in my desire to be with Bella. Frowning, I oil my .22 and check the seams on one of the silencers Emmett sent, growing more perturbed the more I think about how I've let my focus slip.

Debating whether or not to ready my toothbrush syringe with a barbiturate or sodium chloride, I go with the tranquilizer hoping to maybe get a few answers out of stupid about how he manages his double life _(I can't believe I'm even toying with the idea of seeking this jerk's advice)_ before I lay him out permanently. Even though I need a bit more time to plan the best opportunity, it's something that needs to be done sooner rather than later for two reasons. One, I'm a professional and need to fulfill my mystery client's order, and two, the anxiety I'm experiencing from the mistakes I'm making is torture. I look at my Xanax bottle longingly, knowing I shouldn't take one until I'm done surveying him for the day just in case things get tricky and he needs to go earlier than planned.

Drinking the last of the two pack blood supply Emmett sent me, I send a quick text to him reminding him I'll need more in about a week. I toy with the idea of telling him to send more than enough to last a few months, but don't want his inevitable bullshit nosy questions about why. Not because I'm not confident that I'm winning Bella back, but because I'm not ready to share her yet.

But if I'm being completely honest, part of me is also a little wary of jinxing the whole thing. There's always the chance Bella will be horrified by my profession, denying me and making me return to Seattle with my tail between my legs. So it's best that Emmett and his whore of a wife not have that to bring up repeatedly at family gatherings until I ultimately kill myself, which is the only possible outcome if she's not mine because there's no way I'm ever living without her again.

I roll the Xanax bottle between my fingertips, hoping I'll get calm by osmosis as I let my mind wander towards the unthinkable. If things don't work out with Bella, how _could_ I go on? I can't imagine life without her, especially with the curse of immortality looming in the future. I wouldn't be able to function knowing she was out there somewhere, not wanting me the way I want her.

But what if she does want me to stick around and asks me to change my career? There's no other option for me professionally, as much as I'd like there to be. At some point, I'd have to kill someone when the urge gets to be too much, and if I wasn't a hitman I'd have a hard time explaining that to her. You don't just drop that casually. 'Hey sorry about your friend at dinner tonight, I couldn't help myself.' Um, no.

Too much stress. Maybe I should keep The Jazzman around, keep him alive in case I need to hire him for myself in the future. Like a lawyer on retainer.

Checking the cameras again, I see they've left the room and decide I've had a long enough pity party. Packing my beach bag with the essentials - sunblock, sunglasses, toothbrush syringe - I make my way down to the beach.

* * *

Spotting his ridiculous head of shaggy, 70's-worthy porn star blond hair isn't hard considering the beach is private and only a handful of chairs are scattered about. And I think I mentioned he has a head of ridiculous shaggy, 70's-worthy porn star blond hair.

"Can I get you setup on the beach, sir?" An eager teenager is at my side instantly, the hotel logo displayed on his visor and shirt.

"I can manage, thank you."

"It's no problem at all; it's why I'm here." He begins taking a lounge chair across the sand so I have no choice but to follow. "Anywhere in particular?"

There's no shade to be had anywhere near moron and his woman, so I point at a spot somewhere behind them, assessing the direction of the breeze moving off the ocean. It will aid in hearing them as their voices will carry back towards me. I'm not paying attention to where he's going and much to my horror, he misunderstands and places my chair directly next to them, the lesbian brunette looking up and smiling at me.

"Sorry, I'll move further away." I give the teenager a look like he's stupid but before he can pick the chair back up, she's stopping him.

"No! Stay there, it's fine. We've seen you at the bar but haven't had the chance to talk." The teenager moves away, pleased to have made _her_ happy, at least.

"Uh," I mumble, thrown at the unexpected turn of events. Teenager comes back with a towel he promptly lays over my chair, making sure to tuck the top into a bit of a pillow, before placing a small table next to the whole setup.

"Isn't the service here great? They'll get you a drink, too!" I don't want to seem irritable but all this fussing is not something I'm comfortable with even if it is something I'll mention as a nice perk in my TripAdvisor review. The boy waits for me to order something so I go with water, a more normal choice over coffee or scotch.

"I'm Alice, and this is my husband, Jasper. I just love saying husband!" She looks at him and gushes, while he holds his hand out towards me.

This isn't going anything remotely like I'd planned, but having to adapt instantaneously to any scenario is a skill I possess, so I recover quickly and smile as I grasp his hand firmly. "Edward," I offer, knowing I can't use a fake name in case they overheard Bella calling me that at some point. "Jasper, Alice, nice to meet you." I smile, being the charming motherfucker I am.

"Everyone calls me Jazz," he volunteers and it's all I can do to not say 'ha' and 'your nickname makes you a douchebag'.

I sit on my chair so I'm facing them. "Newlyweds?"

"Yes!" Alice says, flashing her ring. "Just a week ago!"

"Oh! Congratulations. Great place for a honeymoon."

"Isn't it? It was a wedding gift from family."

"Wow, I'd keep that family member around, right?" I laugh gaily with a wink and Alice agrees.

"Are you here on vacation?" he asks, and I try to discern if it's a casual question or if he's automatically tuned to work mode.

"Yes, long overdue."

"Where are you from?" Alice takes a sip of some drink with a lot of fruit sticking out of it. Now, this is off-putting. Normally I would give a fake location, of course, but I can't very well lie when Bella could spill at the bar later. This is giving me a headache, and I've only been down here ten minutes. Xanax, take me away.

Not having much choice, I answer truthfully. "Seattle."

Alice's eyes widen a fraction, and I expect her husband to interrupt her to answer, but interestingly, it's she who speaks. "I hear it's lovely. We're from Arizona."

Well, well, well. Little Alice here is a liar liar pants on fire.

So the wifey knows just what sort of a man she married. Now I want to grill both of them before I have to stick a plunger of poison into his scrawny neck. Maybe Alice could give Bella some tips.

"Never been." My own lie - I took out a crooked cop with his own gun in Scottsdale. Good times.

She doesn't elaborate on her fake residence, and I don't add any info on Seattle. "How long are you here for?" Who knew actually talking to my mark could be so helpful? Maybe I can just ask when exactly he might be alone for ten minutes.

"We're here for two weeks, then it's back to the grind," Jazzdouche raises his beer and takes a long swig, emptying most of it. I laugh internally, as that act isn't going to make me not ask the obvious follow up question.

"I hear you. Back to reality and all that. What line of work are you in, Jazz?" I just vomited in my mouth a little bit.

"I'm a contractor." Yes, yes you are. I could really have some fun right now and say I'm in the same line of work, see how smart he really is and if he gets what I'm implying. "You?"

"Waste management." I'm not sure if he's bright enough to realize I'm being as vague as he is.

We lull into silence as Alice gets a call. It doesn't give me much information, just that their cat Blinky has been brought to the vet for what sounds like a massive hairball. As she's talking and Jazz is making himself busy ordering another beer, I look over at the bar to see Bella's arrived and staring at me. Waving to her, she waves back and then makes a 'what are you doing' gesture with her hands.

I point to the sun and the couple next to me, and make the universal symbol for talking. She looks at me like I've lost my mind _(ah, I see she remembers I always hated people)_ , but then motions for me to apply sunscreen, which I grab from my bag and hold for her to see with a 'thumbs up' gesture, which she gives back. We'd kick ass at charades.

Alice hangs up and tells Jazz that the cat is fine, something he seems happy about. The master of deception I am questions if that whole cat conversation is code for something, but then Alice goes on to share the consistency of the hairball described to her, and I change my assessment.

"Pets are more work than children sometimes," Alice turns to me, apologizing for the phone call.

I'm startled from my mooning over Bella and turn sharply back to my companions. Say what now? "Do you have children?"

"No, not yet. But I wouldn't mind a honeymoon baby in nine months! Right, Jazz?"

A baby. A hitman with a baby. If being married is a new concept to me, I can't even fathom having an infant to worry about. Does Bella want children? Would she want children with a man that kills people for a living before returning home for bath time? I picture myself with a carrier strapped to my chest while using a bowie knife and it seems impractical. However, a stroller could conceal many things.

"Well, we're certainly trying." He laughs and grabs her hand, kissing it affectionately. Their whole dynamic is fascinating and scary as fuck at the same time. I'm dying to know more, but a grown man grilling a couple about their relationship would raise some flags. "Do you have any, Edward?" Jasper asks, pulling me from thinking about ways to find out what I want to know without coming across as obvious. Or gay.

"Um, no. Not sure it's in the cards for me." Just a no would've sufficed, Edward, you dumbass.

"Never say never," Alice says with a bit of sympathy in her voice.

"I suppose I'd need a woman first." Why am I still talking?

"I'm sorry if I'm being intrusive," Alice starts, but continues on without waiting for me to say it's okay or shut up. "But I get the feeling you and Bella, the bartender, are an item? Did you just meet her or…"

Do I lie? Tell the truth? How do I classify Bella? I really shouldn't talk about her with these two but the urge to do so is strong. Fuck me I really need that Xanax and maybe a refresher course on how to be a goddamn decent hitman.

"Bella is… well, she's the one that got away, I guess. And I'm doing everything I can to gain her affections once more."

"Oh my God! How romantic!" Alice gushes, holding her hands up under her chin like a preteen with a crush. "She is so beautiful! I just knew you felt more for her than just a casual hookup. I told you, Jazz."

"Casual hookup?" I look between them, concerned that they've obviously been discussing me.

"Yeah, it's something Alice does, she observes people and tries to figure out their stories." Jasper smiles at her as I sit with my mouth open.

Jesus Christ, is she his partner or something? A hitman husband and wife team? Would Bella want to join forces with me? I shake my head of the ridiculous train of thought I'm careening down, considering we have yet to have a proper date let alone start working together as some twisted version of Bonnie and Clyde.

Okay, this is sliding down a ridiculous slippery slope. Time to get back on track and forget about Bella. I lean casually on my lounger, ready to turn this conversation back around to them and eek out more info. "So, what do you think you have figured out about Bella and me, Alice?" _Fuck_.

It's like I asked her about her wedding, she's so excited, leaning forward instantly. "Well, there was just an obvious dynamic between you two. I knew there was more to it than a vacation romance. It's the body language, the way you both seem so comfortable with each other. She moves, you move." Alice nods, waiting for me to confirm, which I don't as I'm too busy trying not to lean into her with my chin in my hands and stars in my eyes. "The way you two look at each other, it's possessive. Almost feral." Interesting choice of words. "Edward, you are crazy about the girl and the girl is crazy about you."

She is? "She is?"

"Mm hmm. I don't know your history, but man, you sure have one. I think she's undoubtedly yours, whether she's realized it yet or not." My heart races at her words, wishing them to be even close to true.

Suddenly, a loud crash comes from the bar followed by a cry, a sound of distress I'd know anywhere. I'm immediately on my feet and within seconds walking across the hot sand, calling out Bella's name. Nearing the bar, a chill runs through me when I see Bella holding her hand, a trail of blood running down her arm. Hearing her name, she looks up at me, a look of horror on her face.

"Edward! No! Don't get any closer!" Confused, I keep walking, about to round the bar to get to her. "Stop! Go away, Edward! Please!"

"Bella, you're hurt!"

"I don't want you over here, please, just back up!" The flow of blood is increasing down her forearm and she takes a towel given to her by a busboy.

"But Bell…"

"Stay back, Edward!" she shouts, giving me a pleading look as her hands shake. What is going on? Why wouldn't she want me to help her?

As she takes a few steps away from me, it hits me like a crowbar to the back of the head. My stomach clenches and my lunch threatens to show itself in a bright red joke all over the concrete.

Bella thinks I'm going to attack her.

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 ** _And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace._**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi guys! Forgive my absence last week, like Edward, I was on holiday! I had planned to post while away, but it just didn't work out, hence no announcement last chapter to let you know. I also apologize for not having a spare moment to answer reviews. You know how much I love to do it and it just killed me not to be able to, but I had zero opportunity before I left to do so. Just know I read them all and appreciate every word you say. I hope you understand, and please enjoy this next installment!**

 **Oh! And there's a special note at the bottom of this, make sure to read!**

 **Chapter 11**

She's terrified of me. Of what I might do if I get near her blood.

All I can do is stand there dumbstruck and numb as a hotel employee rushes over saying something about a car and a ride to the hospital. There's so much activity and I'm just motionless, watching them whisk Bella from me in a flurry of red towels and tears.

"What happened?" Alice is beside me, her hand on my arm and eyes wide as she watches them take Bella away.

"I… I don't know. She cut her hand, maybe? They took her away before I could get to her."

"Oh no! I hope it's not serious! Don't you want to go with her?"

"They took her before I had the chance," I lie, still in shock and not wanting to admit out loud that she basically ran screaming from me.

"Jazz! Give Edward the keys to the rental!" she calls over to him as he's looking at the blood on the ground. A pair of keys are thrust at me, and I take them automatically. "Do you want Jazz to take you?"

"What? No, no. That's okay." Looking at Alice, her face covered with concern, I thank her distractedly.

"It's a blue Ford Focus. There's a GPS. I'm sure there's only one hospital around here. Is there only one hospital?" she calls out to anyone near us.

"The manager took her to Lower Keys Med Center, about twenty minutes away." Someone volunteers.

"You can catch up to her, Edward!" I stand there, still looking at the crime scene. Filled with so much crushing devastation and searing pain, I've shut down from the overload until Alice gives me a shove. "Go!" I do as she says, moving towards the hotel parking lot on autopilot.

The look on Bella's face was pure horror. Of what I am, what she thinks I'm capable of. How could she think I'd ever harm her? Vile self-hatred floods me, the first I've ever felt towards myself apart from when I left her. I've never been ashamed of what I am, but how could I not be now? I'm repulsive, a monster. It obviously took her injuring herself for her true feelings to come out, feelings I'm sure she didn't know she had or chose to ignore, thinking she could handle it.

I'm a fool to think that I could have it all, have her. What sort of sick joke is the world playing on me to let me get so close just to snatch it all away? I should've known karma doesn't reward people like me; foul beings with no sense of morality living inside the body of a demonic mistake of human life.

"FUCK!" I shout, ripping out my hair and crouching low to the ground. If anyone is around to witness my breakdown, I don't care. It's all over anyway.

The hit, my vacation… _life with Bella_ … all over.

Even if she calms down and tries to convince me _(and herself)_ that she'll be able to handle my affliction, the way she reacted was so instinctual, I don't believe it wouldn't happen again.

I should go, turn around and pack up like I was never here, but being the selfish, self-punishing dick I am, I have to see her one last time. I need to know if she's okay.

I'll head to the hospital; I'll just read her chart and gaze at her one final time while she's unaware. I surely don't want to scare her any more than she is. Hopefully, she'll realize me leaving without a goodbye for the second time really is for the best. Then I'll come back here, pack up, and get the next flight out.

I stop throwing a tantrum and locate the car, my instincts taking over when I reach for the door handle. Pulling my hand away sharply, I wipe the keys down with my shirttail before depositing them in my pocket, not wanting to leave all sorts of fingerprints or DNA in their car. I'll return the keys to the front desk as soon as I've returned.

As for my assignment, well, I'll just have to wait for him to return to Washington. I've never had to walk out on a job before, but this is not the time to act, when I'm emotional and in a hurry to get out of town. Besides, if Bella has shunned me, I don't really care if the Jazzman meets his end or not. The world of hired killers will need him with me gone.

Hailing a cab out on the main street, I relay my destination and close my eyes, leaning back on the seat. The warm air rushes over me from the cracked window, so I open it wider and let the whole car fill with the salty sting of ocean breeze, burning it in my memory as it swirls and flows like Bella's scent when I'm surrounded by her. If I could cry, I'd be a mess right now.

Once at the hospital, I locate the emergency department and stick close to the walls, listening for either Bella or someone talking about a hand injury. With a cold feeling of dread, I realize I don't know what the injury is, exactly. What if she lost a finger? Sliced her tendons? Will she be able to work? Did someone put the amputated finger on ice? I should've looked for it before being pushed by Alice to leave. Maybe that's what Jazz was doing when he was studying the crime scene.

Alice. Jasper. I shake my head, incredulous that I accepted help from someone that's been an enemy. Despite my natural hatred for the guy, they offered their help _(which is probably something I'd never do, let's be honest)_ , so I have to admit that maybe he's just a nicer guy than me. It was thoughtful of them to offer me their car… unless that was a convenient way for them to collect my DNA and make me? That thought makes me feel a bit better about this unnatural act of kindness bullshit. Not that it'll matter soon who's the nicer hitman with a heart of gold, as I'll be a pile of ashes and he'll finally be number one.

Scanning the dry erase board, I see Bella's last name listed and a location number, so I look over the nurse's desk to see if I can find a chart. Seeing nothing, I slink towards the curtained dividers of where she should be, and hear voices coming from behind the green drapes.

"I'm fine, Patty, really. Get back to the hotel. I'll be back in a bit."

"Bella, just take the rest of the day, I already called Lauren; she's on her way in."

"Tell her I'll take a shift for her next week." I hear movement, and see Bella's manager backing out between curtains.

"I will. Just take it easy. You'll be okay to get home? I'd stay, but I left a busboy behind the bar," she says with a laugh.

"Yeah, go before he gives away all the booze." Bella doesn't seem that distressed now; maybe distancing herself from me has had a calming effect. Or they shot her full of sedatives. There's shuffling in the sheets and I hear Bella sigh, so I take a chance and peek around the curtain, hoping she's lying back on the bed with her eyes closed.

But no, she's sitting up, the blood washed away and a large surgical towel covering her hand and wrist. Her eyes widen when she sees me lurking like a weirdo.

Shit.

"Edward!" She moves so quickly, getting up and running to me, I'm floored when she throws her one good arm around my neck and presses her body close to mine.

She starts speed talking in my ear, before I've even had a chance to register what's happening. "Are you okay? Oh, Edward, that must've been terrible for you, I'm so sorry! I'm so clumsy, the tray just slipped and then all the glasses started shattering on the granite and the floor and… I'm so, so sorry!"

"Sorry?" The fog encompassing my brain starts to lift once I realize what she's saying. "Bella, what are you sorry for? I'm the one that should be apologizing." For scaring you so badly. For being a freak. For existing at all and thinking I had any chance at a life with you.

"I'm sorry you had to be close to all that blood."

What? "Wait, you weren't telling me to back away because you were… terrified of me?"

"Terrified? Oh God, no, I was worried that seeing all the blood would tempt you, or something. And I know you haven't yet had blood from a person, but seeing it was mine I thought… I guess I thought you wouldn't be able to stop yourself and then you'd beat yourself up about it."

I still can't be hearing this right. "So, you weren't scared I was going to attack you?"

"Attack me?" She looks at me, confused. "Edward, you would never attack me!"

Bella isn't afraid of me. She's _worried_ about me.

My heart soars at her words, and I pull her into a tight hug, the sweetest relief washes over me so completely I'm almost afraid to believe it. My lips find the top of her head and my eyes close, my entire body sagging with relief. "I don't have to leave."

It's a quick thought, one I mutter quietly to myself. But Bella tenses in my hold, and begins to pull back. "You were going to leave again?"

Crap.

Moving her to sit on the bed, I pull the chair up so that I can rest my hands on her thighs. "I thought you were scared and repulsed by me."

"But you were going to just go?" The hurt in her voice makes me ache. "Without a word? Without giving me a say?"

"I didn't want you to have to see me." I rest my head on her knee. "Bella, please believe me, the last thing I want to do is to ever leave you again. But I would, if I knew you weren't able to handle what I am. I'd never put that on you. I don't want you to live with any doubt or fear of me."

Softly, I feel her hand begin to comb through my hair, my scalp tingling at her touch. "I'd be a fool to say that I didn't have some hesitations about you," she says, and when I try to move my head she strengthens her hold on me. "But they're not because of some genetic legacy that you have no control over. I'm wary of what you _do_ have control over."

"I have no control over anything when it comes to you." I laugh gently, rubbing my cheek against her thigh as I look up at her. She just hums, and we sit like that for a moment.

"Promise me, Edward. Even if this doesn't work out, you won't go without a goodbye," Bella says softly, her hand still running through my hair.

"I promise." I swallow thickly, ignoring her statement about it not working out. "Your hand, is it okay?"

"It's fine, just a few stitches needed. Doctor should be coming in any minute."

"So you didn't lose a finger?"

"No, just a slice on my forearm. Harmless."

I look at her hand wrapped in the towels and relax. "I'm glad you'll retain the ability to flip people off." Smiling, I recall many instances where Bella's bad driving preceded horns blaring followed by her answering gesture.

"Me too. _That_ would've been a travesty."

We fall into silence waiting for the doctor, my hands still on her thighs while my eyes watch her fiddle with the towel. "I could open it for you a bit, let you get a whiff."

"Bella Swan, are you making vampire jokes?"

"Too soon?"

* * *

Settling Bella on her couch two hours later, I prop pillows behind her and put her feet up, her protests about it being her hand and not her lower body ignored by me as I untie her sneakers and rub her feet a bit, making sure she's comfortable.

I take a small pillow and set it gently under her arm, now wrapped in a bandage covering the six stitches on her right forearm. "You're not leaving, are you?" she asks as I stand and grab the remote to hand her.

The tone of her voice thrills me, the way she's almost whining at the thought of me not staying with her. "No, I'm just going to retrieve your moped so it's not sitting in the lot overnight."

"Oh damn, my moped." She leans her head back and brings her injured arm up to her eyes, flexing her wrist which seems to cause some discomfort. "How am I going to use the throttle with this?"

"I guess I'll just have to ferry you in taxis for a while."

"I'm capable of getting a taxi myself. I just don't like the idea of being dependent on transportation I have to call and wait for."

"I could buy a car and be your personal taxi service."

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"In a heartbeat. Okay, I'll be back soon." On instinct, I lean down and kiss her forehead. My lips linger a bit on her warm skin and want to stay a while, but I have plans so I hurry out and begin walking to the hotel at a fast clip _(the fastest I've walked in a while)_ so I can get back to her.

Nearing the front desk, I take Jazzdouche's keys _(now that my world isn't ending, I can go back to hating him)_ out of my pocket with my shirttail and give them another wipe down, planning to leave them with the staff. I realize quickly that they never gave me their last name; I only know it from my intel, so I have no choice but to return the keys to them personally.

But not tonight. I head to my room to leave the keys there so I don't inadvertently touch them. I eye the laptop, knowing I should login and check out what they're doing below me but just can't bring myself to take the time. They'll be here for another ten days, hopefully they're still just sitting around making out and getting shitfaced which will give me plenty of opportunity.

Even hitmen deserve a night off, right?

Using the moped keys Bella gave me, I ride the scooter through the streets stopping at a few stores along the way including the pharmacy the hospital called her pain prescription in to. It's a beautiful evening, the sun is getting ready to set and the sky is that amazing explosion of color again. I smile while riding, breathing in the same air that just a few hours ago, I thought I'd never enjoy again. Her worrying about how I was feeling during her injury speaks volumes, but Bella's had a trying day, so it's not the time to tell her about my job. However, I'm even more confident after all this that it isn't going to be an issue for her.

The TV is on low and Bella's dozing when I enter, so I make as little sound as possible _(well, it's me, so there's no sound at all 'cause I'm a stealthy bastard)_ and go about preparing the items I bought. I'm smiling as I walk back into Bella's living room with a carefully planned tray.

"I smell burnt popcorn." She shifts up on the couch, pulling herself into a sitting position with her good arm.

"You would be correct." I put the slightly charred popcorn down on the coffee table, along with a few other surprises. She looks at everything I've gathered for her, and her fingers move to cover her mouth before she sighs heavily. "Are you in pain? You should lie back; I'll get the prescription for you."

"I'm not in pain, Edward."

"So what's wrong?"

She looks up at me with big, watery brown eyes. "You did it again."

"What exactly, did I do?" I smirk, knowing exactly what I'm doing as I pull the black case from the tray to open it.

"Burnt popcorn, M&M's, and _Donnie Darko_." She's shaking her head at the junk food and DVD I'm currently inserting into the player. "It's perfect."

"Not quite yet." I run back to the kitchen and grab the remaining items I bought. Holding out a cup to her, she's simultaneously laughing and getting a bit choked up.

"Dixie cup vodka."

Nodding, I sit next to her and tap my tiny cup against hers. "Dixie cup vodka."

* * *

In the spring of our junior year, Bella decided that it would be a good idea to borrow my skateboard and head to the park while I was at the dentist to try and learn how to do a kickflip, regardless of the fact that she couldn't keep her balance on it while going in a straight line and me holding her hands.

After finding my board gone, I went to find that dick Yorkie, who I believed to be the thief, only to come across Bella lying on her back in the middle of the half-pipe, her arm clutched to her chest while ungodly moans escaped her throat. I immediately scooped her up and carried her the mile and a half to her house, all the while whispering soothing words into her ear, my board completely forgotten behind us.

Her father, Forks police chief and a volunteer paramedic, determined it wasn't broken, just sprained, but injured enough that he told her she was to stay home and rest on the couch for the remainder of the day. When I suggested I stay by her side since her folks were going out for the night, he begrudgingly agreed, knowing full well that I'd just come back anyway.

We feasted on popcorn I'd burned in the microwave mixed with handfuls of M&M's, all topped off with vodka stolen from her parents' liquor cabinet and drunk out of bathroom Dixie cups. I held Bella and gently ran my fingertips up and down her arm all night, as our current obsession, _Donnie Darko_ , played twice because I didn't want to disturb her sleep by getting up to turn it off.

That was the night I told her I was going to marry her as she slept.

The movie starts, pulling me from my thoughts, and I'm overjoyed when Bella doesn't hesitate to snuggle up against me, like she always did.

As we watch, she snacks, trying to feed me the most burnt pieces, arguing they've retained their heat. There's more popcorn on the couch than in her stomach, but the neat freak in me doesn't care, because in her struggle to get me to eat food, Bella's entire body has become pressed against mine.

I can't stop looking at her as the blue halo of the TV surrounds her in the dim room, and I know I'm going to kiss her if I don't move. I begin to shift but before I can get anywhere, Bella crawls up onto my lap, gingerly keeping her bandaged arm resting on my shoulder.

"You really know how to take care of me."

"I will take care of you forever, if you'll let me."

"I'm starting to believe that."

"See? I'm not such a bad guy." I smirk, very aware that her thighs are tightly pressed against mine and all I want to _do_ is be a bad guy. I can feel the warmth of her skin through the yoga pants she changed into, and if she doesn't let me move in a minute she's really going to be attacked - by a certain part of my body that's about to announce his presence.

Bella's hand moves to my cheek and she lightly strokes a finger down my skin to my mouth. "I still haven't forgiven you."

"What can I do?" I say in a repeat of our beach conversation.

"Shut up." And with that, Bella kisses me for real. Her mouth is hot on mine, open and inviting, and I don't care that I should make us slow down. I kiss her back trying to make up for all the years I've missed. My hands grab her waist and tighten, her body responding by sliding closer. She's pressed right up against me now, neither of us breaking away even as the kiss gains dangerous momentum. She's moaning into my mouth and it's just about the best sound I've ever heard. Her tongue is playing against mine, moving and sucking, then licking my lips and diving back in.

She is vodka, salt and chocolate, and it's better than any rare steak, better than any blood I've ever had.

Bella was, and always will be, intoxicating.

My hands move up her back, wishing they were sliding against bare skin and not the cotton of her shirt, towards her shoulders. Gripping them, I pull her down so that she's digging right into me. Her moan is enough to egg me on, so I do it again and she gasps against my mouth, beginning to move on her own and things are going to get out of hand if she keeps this up. My dick is harder than it's ever been, ecstatic to have the real deal rubbing against it instead of a fantasy and my hand.

My dick and I are in agreement; I never dreamed in a million years I'd have Bella back like this, that she'd be willingly kissing me and grinding on top of me. Again, if I could cry, I would at the sheer delight of this moment.

"Ow! Fuck!"

"What happened?" I feel the loss of her immediately as she pulls her arms from around my neck. "Did you hit yourself?"

"Guess I was getting too aggressive. Maybe it's karma telling me to slow down. Shit." She rests her head against my shoulder and my hands move from pushing her down on me to soothing her back in circles.

"Karma is a cunt."

Bella laughs on top of me. "I can't believe you still use that word. Remember when you called Mrs. Cope that after she caught me and Angela smoking and threatened to tell my dad?"

"It's the best word ever. Describes anyone it's aimed at perfectly with one simple syllable."

Smiling, she pulls back and cradles her hand. I'm bummed the moment is over, but grateful it happened at all. I don't want to push my luck, though. "I should go," I say even though it's the last thing I want.

"You don't have to."

No one ever said Edward Cullen was stupid. "Okay." I clean up the remnants of our party and give Bella one of the pain pills. Pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and laying it over her, she asks me to lie down with her, which I gladly do, minding her arm as I nestle her against me. Her head is under my chin and I stroke her hair, exactly how I did late at night in the confines of her twin bed while the crickets chirped through her open window.

"Thank you for taking care of me," she whispers as I'm lost in what we once had.

Taking a piece of her hair in my hand, I twirl it around my finger. "I'm just sorry it wasn't something I could do for you every time you got hurt." My voice is rough, my slow breathing uneven as I'm filled with a new wave of pain for what I did to her. "I missed so much."

"You're here now." She pulls my arm across her chest, so that I'm cradling her. "It's a start."

Within a few minutes, Bella begins to snore lightly, so I lean down and whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to marry you, Bella Swan."

* * *

 **There is still time to register for the Twi Fic Meet Up in San Diego this year! September 30-October 2! I can't say enogh about what a truly great time it is - meeting authors you love, and other readers that love the same thing you do. I've been to a few now and it's an event I wouldn't miss! I'd love to meet you there, or hang out again if we already have! I'm a good time, just sayin' :)**

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* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 ** _And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace._**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Waffles?"

"Apple cinnamon, hope you still like them." Bella is sleepy-headed and adorable as she peers around me to see I've pulled her waffle maker out.

"I didn't think I had the ingredients."

"You didn't, I've been out and about while you got your beauty sleep, not that you need it." Smiling, I take a chance and lean down for a kiss, which she tips her head up for like it's second nature. "Here, fresh OJ. Head outside on the back deck, it's a beautiful morning."

She does as I say and I finish plating her breakfast, presenting it to her on the little bistro table that overlooks the small, overgrown yard choked with purple wildflowers. Pouring her a cup of coffee from the French press I uncovered in her pantry, I automatically add her cream and sugar before settling back with my own mug.

"You should be careful, I could get used to this kind of treatment. Although I feel weird eating when you're not. Unless you already…"

Holding up my mug, "This is all I need."

"So, if I were to ask you to try a piece of waffle to please me?" She holds the fork out, waving it around like a parent using the old airplane game on a toddler. I lean forward, making an exaggerated face of disgust as I take the piece and chew. It's actually pretty good, but I should've heated the syrup.

"Can I ask some more questions?" Bella polishes off one waffle and moves to the second.

"Ask away."

"How does it work, exactly, the eating thing? Like, you need blood, but you also need food-food?"

"I need both to survive. I don't need as much blood as a full vampire or as often. Same with human food. My body uses the fuel more efficiently. When my need solely for blood takes over, my need for food ceases and it will become unappetizing."

"Sounds like an envious diet. You should market that."

"I'll call Jenny Craig immediately."

Bella pushes the last piece of waffle around with a pensive look on her face. Hopefully she's weighing what to ask next and not hesitating because she's starting to get creeped out. "Where do you get the blood if you don't get it the old fashioned, horror movie way?"

"I have a donor."

"A donor," she deadpans.

"Yes."

"A female?"

"Yes, but that's the extent of our relationship."

"I see."

Kicking her foot under the table, I can't help but tease her. "Bella, are you jealous?"

"Moving on," she deflects. "How did she come to be your donor?" There's a bit of a snarl on her last word there, enough to make me feel a bit smug.

"Well, there's a syndicate of willing donors, that's how Emmett met his wife."

"I'm picturing a big room full of candles with buxom naked women wearing masks, trying to make themselves appealing so they get chosen."

"It's less Stanley Kubrick and more like sperm donation. All very clinical and anonymous. I chose her out of a book."

"On what basis?"

Shrugging, I finish the last of my coffee and pour us both more. "Her blood type, age, health."

"So she what, delivers it to you?" There's still a covetous bite to her questioning, something I'm enjoying immensely. I could talk it up, really make her show her colors, but if I want her to even consider this in the future, I should play nice.

"It gets delivered; I've never met her past the initial meeting."

"So she's like, hooked up to a machine or something?"

"It's a clinic, like when you donate blood to Red Cross."

Bella fidgets in her chair, a blush starting to form in the V of her shirt, making me curious as to what she's thinking. "Um, your brother, he bites his wife or does she go to a clinic?"

"He feeds off of her directly." My eyes narrow as I watch her squirm, and if I was a betting man, I'd say she's not asking because she wants to write a book.

"And that's something she, ah, likes?" The blush that's moved from her chest to her face screams _Bingo!_

I put my coffee down and slide my chair closer to hers. Placing my hand on her arm above the bandage, I slowly move it up, fingering the sleeve of her shirt as it passes to rest gently on her shoulder. "It's something she likes very much."

My hand on her shoulder brushes her hair away from her neck while the other begins to stroke her uninjured wrist, slowly in circles, tracing and feeling the vein there. "It's a very powerful connection they share."

My fingers massage the base of her skull, simultaneously increasing pressure on both her head and wrist, making goosebumps rise on her arms. I lean in a bit more, so my thigh touches hers, my foot winding around her leg so she's captured. "It's seductive."

I tip her head slightly with the fingers that are continuing to stroke, something she allows easily, her eyes starting to close as her breathing picks up. I dip my head down, my nose skimming her arm, her shoulder, and landing on her neck, letting my breath fan out over her exposed skin. "It's foreplay."

Against every half-human instinct not to do so, my mouth is watering, I want to dive into her so badly, to bite her creamy skin so unhurriedly that her blood oozes out and teases me. Never have I had this intense an urge to feed this way, never so much desire to drink it fresh from the source. I feel it in my stomach, my head, my heart and my cock. It's taking all the willpower I have not to tear into her right here and now. Instead, my mouth gently touches down on the pulsing vein in her neck, and I kiss her slowly, letting my tongue travel a bit to taste her before beginning to suck.

"Oh!" Bella shivers under my attention as her chest heaves and she cranes her neck to give me more access. I don't want to mark her _(well, I do, but I won't)_ so I gently ease back, licking the sore spot and casually sliding back my chair until I'm sitting opposite her again.

Bella is stuck in position, gently swaying on her chair with her eyes still closed. It takes her a moment to come back to me, and I pat myself on the back for a job well done and for the sheer strength exerted by not clamping down on her despite the ungodly craving to do so.

"Wow."

"So to reiterate, yes, she likes it."

"Are you sure you haven't done that before?"

"I'm insulted. If you recall, I did that to you many, many times in the backseat of my car."

"That was entirely different." She still looks dazed, something I'm feeling fantastically pleased about. "You really have never fed that way?"

"No, I have not. I won't until I change."

"But it's so… erotic."

"It is." _And I don't care to share that with anyone but you_ , I want to say, but I don't think she's ready to hear that.

"It would be like that for us all the time if…" Bella stops talking, seemingly a bit nervous at where her sentence was heading.

Or maybe she _is_ ready.

My dick begins to tighten at the idea that this is something Bella might want. A foreign feeling of pure possession surfaces, and my whole body begins to tense like it wants to pounce on her. I know my features have shifted, showing her that darker side of me, the hunter and the demon that lives within. My hand slides up the inside of her thigh, and I look up at her from behind my wicked expression.

"I think it would be so good between us I'd be in danger of draining you dry."

Bella inhales sharply, and she presses her legs together, capturing my hand. "That shouldn't turn me on."

"But it does."

"It does because it's you."

"That's a very good thing. Because there's no way in hell I'd ever share you. You'd be all _mine_."

"I… have to shower. Work, this afternoon," she stutters, holding onto the table as she gets up, and I worry I've gone too far and scared her, so I back off.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"I think I'll be using every ounce of energy I have to stop myself from encouraging you to taste your first human tonight in my bedroom."

Nope, not scared.

I get up and take her head in my hands, placing a kiss against her lips. "As tempting as it would be to have you fail miserably at that, I have other plans. Bring a dress to change into; I'm taking you out tonight."

* * *

Back in my hotel room and turning on my computer, I try to punish myself for dropping the ball on the job I've been hired for, but fail miserably, as I realize spending the night and morning with Bella was so much more important than killing an imbecile. Does that make me a failure? Is my job becoming less important than _(gasp)_ a personal life? Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths and do some soul searching.

Nope. The urge to kill is still there, still something I'm looking forward to, so maybe I'm just really getting good at the dual lifestyle enjoyed by my arch nemesis. I smirk and do a small fist pump. Why did I ever doubt I _wouldn't_ be able to do this? Ha!

Logging into my surveillance system, I see they're still in their room, eating in bed, and from what I can hear, watching porn, so I obviously haven't missed any prime opportunities.

Two things must be accomplished today before my big date with Bella. One, I have to return the keys I _(begrudgingly)_ appreciate them lending me, and two, I need to figure out how to get Jazz McSpazz alone for at least five minutes, preferably off of hotel property, but even if I don't get the chance I need, studying him some more can only aid me in my quest.

I shower quickly and when I check on them again, they're in their swimsuits and talking about heading to the pool. Perfect. Grabbing their keys, I head down to meet them.

They're setting up under the shade of some palms and ordering cocktails, which makes me worry about their livers, but more importantly, I need to give the keys I have wrapped in my shirttail back without looking like a weirdo that's afraid of germs.

"Alice, Jazz, thank you so much for lending me the car yesterday." Smiling, I begin to pretend to fish the keys from my pocket, only to drop them at Alice's feet. "So sorry!" Slow to bend down on purpose, Alice beats me to it and scoops them up off the concrete deck of the pool.

"Not a problem! Is Bella okay?" Alice looks concerned, most likely at the idea Bella might need to take some time off due to her injury, cutting down her ogling time.

"She's fine, just a few stitches. She's back to work today." The relief on Alice's face is comical.

"I thought this drink tasted like one of hers." She closes her eyes as she takes another sip, which is super weird and makes me oddly possessive.

"Yes, well, thanks again." I begin to move away casually, banking on the fact that Alice will invite me to join them, which she does.

Smiling happily, I perch on the chaise next to her. "So what do you newlyweds have planned for today?"

"Well, I'm going to take a spa day and get a massage; I'm not sure what Jazz has planned. Maybe you can keep him company?"

I look over at simpleton and he's looking at Alice like she's daft. "I thought I'd maybe hit a few balls around. I'm sure Edward has other things he'd like to do." The way he says 'hit a few balls' makes Alice's face shift.

"Oh right! I forgot, sorry! Jazz likes to concentrate when he does that, improves his… game."

"No problem, I was planning on visiting the Hemingway House." A complete fabrication. Just the thought of being surrounded by all of those five digit cats makes me twitchy. "Well, you two kids have a good day, apply sunscreen," I joke, haha, all buddy-buddy and like I'm not about to murder one of them.

Leaving the pool area, I fight the urge to go see Bella, as surely I'd end up sitting there all day watching her instead of doing my job, so I make myself go to my room and survey the floor below me watching for my neighbors return and eventual parting.

I spend the next two hours surfing the internet and catching up on my Guns & Ammo, then preparing my disguise to do further reconnaissance, and possible hit of The Jazzman.

Finally, they return to the room to change so I head down to the entrance of the hotel to wait, dressed in my disguise of an unassuming t-shirt, baseball cap, brown contacts to disguise my green eyes, and a very All-American Joe kind of mustache and goatee, the same dark shade as my slicked hair. I'd have rather donned a hairpiece, too, but Emmett didn't send me any, which gives me a good excuse to call him later and degrade him for his utter incompetence.

I grab a map and pretend to look at it until the couple comes down, kissing grotesquely at the door before parting ways.

As I'm of course prepared that surfer boy would be taking his car to his destination, I've ordered a taxi which is waiting for me on the other end of the parking lot, where I jog to after I see him head out to the rental.

Telling the driver to 'follow that car' feels as stupid as it sounds, but I can't worry about how sketchy it might make me appear and watch the blue car in front of us as it winds around the local foot traffic and towards the northern side of the island.

I've researched the directions to the closest driving range, but instead of continuing on Route 1 to get to the course, the blue car takes a right and winds its way back into the side streets just outside of town. I recall the look that passed between Alice and Jasper when he mentioned golfing, so I'm not surprised that's _not_ where he's going.

My curiosity is piqued as my cabbie continues to follow at a safe distance _(per my repeated orders, it's frustrating not to be doing this myself)_ for fifteen minutes or so. Curious about what they felt the need to lie about, I wonder if I'm possibly about to witness a hit he's taken on. I didn't see him take any weapons from his hole in the wall, and I'd be awfully surprised if he had one on him that I didn't know about.

I tell the driver to stop when I see the blue car pulling into a lot ahead of us. Looking at the building while waiting for him to exit the vehicle, I'm momentarily appalled when I see what's gotten the Jazzercize to leave his wife's side for an afternoon, and my mouth drops open in disgust.

Key West Paintball Field.

Is this how this pinhead practices shooting? No wonder he's as much of an amateur as he is if he's running around a fake battlefield with teenagers wearing war paint on their faces like they're starring in a remake of _Red Dawn_.

Sighing, I pay my cab driver when I see the wannabe Wolverine entering the building with a huge, asshat smile on his face.

He's looking at a map of the course and talking to some pimply-faced kid about waiting for an opponent, so I take it upon myself to snatch some camo overalls and hat with a neck covering flap that hides my hair. Looking like someone from a bad Vietnam movie, I show a fake ID, pay the fee for an hour's worth of play and tell the girl behind the desk that I'm in need of a playmate.

Putting my goggles on and grabbing the gun she holds out like I'm just too eager to start, the girl calls to Pimply and within ten minutes, I'm out on the fake desert-style playing field, crouching behind a paint-splattered fabricated concrete wall and waiting for the enemy to slip up and make himself known.

In the distance, I can hear the muted pow pow of guns going off, and quickly watch a few other players as they come close enough so I can see how the gun kicks when disengaged, how fast a paintball moves, and what the impact appears to be when it hits its intended target.

Confident that's all I need to know, I move close to the ground to better my viewing angle and see the ankle of Jasper's rented boot as he slides behind a large wood barricade. Moving stealthily, I crawl military style to a wall close by and wait for any signs of movement.

After a few moments, there's a scraping sound and I hear shuffling off to my left, so I peek around the wall and see Jasper's gotten about fifty feet away, now crouched behind a bush and surveying the land, looking for the guy that just so happened to need a partner at the same time _(I can't believe his would-be hitman vibes assumed nothing fishy about that)_.

Spotting a few players in the distance leaving the perfect perch yards behind where Jasper has housed himself, I silently make my way across the fake terrain _(I swear some of these plants are plastic)_ and duck behind a dead tree making a Y formation. From this vantage point, Jasper is facing the opposite direction, looking like a groundhog checking to see if it's spring yet.

Smiling behind my goatee, I brace my gun on a dry branch and take the briefest of seconds to aim before pulling the trigger.

A large purple pellet hits Jasper squarely on the ass as a warning, making him jump and squeal like a girl.

This might be kind of fun, after all.

Moving out of view before he can turn and see me, I quickly vacate my spot and make my way behind a barricade of rotting wood to watch him between broken slats as he scrambles to get to a large rock, but not before I land another beautiful purple mark nicely on his thigh.

The referees are obviously not paying attention, and from what I just observed about paintball, as soon as you're hit, you're done. But I'm not about to complain about more opportunity to shoot at the fool.

Leaving my spot, I inch closer to where he's holed up, and see his searching eyes, then his gun as he holds it over the rock, aiming it towards me. I'm too quick, of course, and his blue paint lands squarely on a pile of wood shavings four feet to my right.

Wholly amused, I'm not surprised in the slightest that I am good at this game, and that he is not.

Hearing him shuffle behind the rock, I quickly and soundlessly sprint to a gathering of dry, brittle bushes, the brown of the dead bark hiding my camo outfit well. Watching him as he crouches low, thinking he's got me pinned, I hold in a laugh as he looks around, defeated and stupid.

I follow his path a while as he ducks behind the same wood I was near earlier, a few clumps of boulders, and some concrete, until he finally settles into a small foxhole dug into the ground behind some bramble.

Smiling and checking my aim, I creep across the field with my gun raised at eye level, ready to pounce and end this already. I briefly consider pulling out my hidden knife out of my thigh pocket and do this motherfucker in for real, but there are too many people and a sign-in sheet that I'd rather not have called into question.

Encroaching silently towards the turned back of The Jackass-man, it's almost too easy. In quick succession, I fire my weapon and leave big, beautiful, purple explosions from five feet away _(damn safety rules)_ all over his dirt-covered coveralls.

He turns in the foxhole onto his assaulted back, but I don't stop firing, paint landing on his stomach, pelvis, shoulders, everywhere that's acceptable in game play.

"Hey! You're not allowed…" BAM BAM BAM, three more land on his chest. "I'm hit! What the fuck is the matter with you, buddy?" He scrambles up and out of the hole, plowing into a bush and getting one shot off that lands on my forearm before turning and running towards a neutral zone, yelling for the referee.

Before the official can make it over to him, I slip out the playing field entrance, ditch my unpaid for clothing and leave the rental gun on the counter, walking out the door calmly before the girl can check me out properly or return my equipment rental fee.

I might not have accomplished what I set out to do at the beginning of my day, but if the amusement I got from hitting that ignoramus with paint all afternoon is any indication, killing him is going to be hilarious.

He appears back on the street ten minutes later, and from where I'm sitting on the fence across the road, it's obvious he's angry, and looking for me. Instead of getting in his car to head back to the hotel, he starts walking through the crowds of the busy street.

I keep my distance, and consider taking off the mustache and goatee so I can 'bump' into him as myself, but also because the beard is starting to irritate me and I have a hot date tonight. The last thing I need is for Bella to cancel because my face is red and I'll have to lie that I've developed some sort of allergy to shellfish.

Excited and thinking about our date tonight, I'm on autopilot as I turn down a quieter side street Jasper took ahead of me. Replaying the conversation with Bella this morning, I relive the look on her face when I pulled away from her neck. There's no question the girl was turned on and interested. Tonight should be another step closer to happily ever after, and most definitely blue-ball inducing.

Coming back to reality just a moment too late, the hair on my neck bristles when I realize that Jasper is not within my sight. A sudden, uneasy feeling precedes a flash of movement to my left, as a blur of bad, frizzy blond hair comes out of the shadows towards me and slams me into the wall before running down the alley.

It's with my mouth agape in shock that he was one step ahead of me when I register a sharp, stinging sensation in my hand.

Watching him turn a corner and raising my smarting hand, I'm stunned when I finally look to see my own blood dripping down my arm and a broken, purple speckled goggle lens lying at my feet.

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 ** _And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace._**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Bella texts me at six that her shift is over, so I tell her to change into her dress and I'll meet her down at the lobby, hoping to avoid the bar and another run-in with Jazzdouche, who could possibly see my soon-to-be bandaged hand. Two days ago I would've said he was too dumb to make the connection, but I have to admit _(regretfully)_ that he one-upped me today. I make quick work of cleaning the sizable gash he inflicted, wishing I was a Full already as the wound would've healed by now. Bella is going to notice, and I'm not sure what I'll tell her. Maybe I'll say I did it for love, a sympathy wound to match hers. That's some romantic shit right there.

Staying alert in the lobby, I see Bella immediately as she walks through a side door and move towards her, trying to put this dreadful and confusing afternoon behind me and concentrate on the first reason I'm in Key West.

I quickly move my injured hand into my pants pocket and run the other over her bare arm. "You look incredible." She's wearing a long, strapless blue dress of a soft material that's a bit shorter in front, showing off her tan legs.

"Is it too dressy? It was this or a cotton sundress. But seeing you in a jacket in this heat, I guess not."

"It's perfect for where we're going." And the jacket is necessary to hide the knife sewn into the lining of my sleeve.

"And where is that?"

"It's a surprise." I lead her outside with my good hand on her back, and when she moves towards the taxi stand I pull her closer to me and guide her around the waiting passengers. "It's a beautiful night, we can walk." I look down at her shoes, a pair of high, sparkly sandals. "You can walk in those?"

"I can run in these if I have to. No problem."

"You _have_ grown up. The Bella Swan I knew way back when wore combat boots to prom."

"That was a statement."

Guiding her across the street, I take the long way to our destination and we end up at Mallory Square, where entertainers gather crowds at sunset looking for some pocket money. My hand holds hers tightly as we walk slowly past jugglers, fire-eaters, and magicians.

"You know, I've lived here for seven years and not once have I come down here to see this."

"I know it's kind of touristy, but I wanted to share the sunset I've admired the past few days with you. I heard this was the perfect spot."

Bella looks out over the water, the sun riding low while the sky above is alive with color dancing off the clouds. Her face reflects the magnificent pinks and golds shining around us, and I feel an ache in my heart for all the time lost, all the sunsets and sunrises she's seen without me by her side. "It's heavenly."

"It can't compare to you." Pulling out my phone, I fiddle with the camera app _(never used, never had anything I wanted a lasting memory of except maybe one of my kills but obviously that would be a poor choice)_ and take a picture of her.

"Let's take one together." Bella motions for me to stand next to her. She takes my phone and holds it up, while I get as close to her as I can, wrapping her in my arms and laying my head on hers. "You will show up in this, right?" She takes the picture and looks at the phone. "Yup, you're here."

"Another myth. I take _great_ pictures." I look at the phone and I see someone staring back at me I haven't seen in a long time. The goofy grin from my youth is right there, with the starry eyes and intense love for the girl encased in my hold. I realize the pose we just struck mimics almost every picture of Bella and me taken by our friends and parents.

"It's like time stood still," she says like she's read my mind, rubbing her thumb over the picture. "Except I look waaay fucking older than you, you shit. And your eyes aren't red-rimmed and glassy."

Laughing, I tell her to make the picture my screen saver. "You look perfect. _We_ look perfect." She works my phone until the picture is saved, placing it in my hand, but I don't let go of her, speaking hesitantly, "Did you keep any?"

Sighing, Bella looks up at me. "I kept them all."

"You still have them?"

"I do." She nods and looks away. "Do you?"

I hesitate, remembering the exact moment I chose to erase Bella from my life. Celluloid-fueled flames licked against the edge of the fire I'd made, her face melting and bubbling in the heat and rising above me in a plume of black smoke. No action of mine has made me sicker than having to admit this to her, right now. "No. I didn't take any with me. I couldn't."

She can't hide the look of hurt on her face, one I'm still causing years later. "I'm sorry, Bella. It'll never be enough, I know. But if you let me, I'll rebuild that photo album I had, the one with the Pearl Jam stickers on it you made for me. I'll take pictures of you day and night. While you're sleeping, while you're mad, while you're laughing. We can start over."

"There's no starting over, Edward. We either choose to move on or try to pick up the pieces."

"I'll pick up every last one." She lets me kiss her, slow in the heat of the fading sun. If I live to be five thousand years old, this will remain my favorite thing to do.

"I still haven't forgiven you," she murmurs while I continue to press my lips against her soft chin, her warm cheek, her freckled nose.

"What can I do?"

"I have a list, but right now, buy me a margarita."

"Done." I wrap her in my arms, grateful to feel her holding me close as well. Years of apologies will never be enough, but I'll do everything I can for the rest of forever. "Hungry, too?" I pull back, happy to see her eyes are still closed, a dreamy expression on her face.

"Starving!"

As we near the restaurant at the end of the pier, Bella remarks that she's never eaten here. "Was it tough to get a reservation?"

"Technically, the restaurant is closed."

"So what…"

We get to the outside seating area and Bella looks at the sign set up. "Brianna and Randy's Wedding. Who are Brianna and Randy?"

"No idea." I push her gently to enter, guiding her towards the bar. "Margarita, you said, right?"

"Edward! Are we crashing a wedding?" She pulls on my jacket sleeve and I calmly order a margarita for her and a Merlot for me despite the sudden imagery of my knife falling out and severing her toe.

"Scared, Bella?" I taunt, leaning on the bar and holding out a brightly-colored stool for her.

"Me? Scared? Not on your life." She turns to an older couple sipping drinks and eating finger foods. "Hi! I'm Jessica Stanley. Friends of the bride or groom?"

* * *

Growing up in a small town, there wasn't much to do most weekends once you got tired of going to the beach, the diner, or the bowling alley.

So on one particularly boring Saturday afternoon, Bella instructed me to find the nicest outfit I owned _(really hard to do for a teenager who lived in ripped jeans and had drawers full of offensive t-shirts)_ and directed me to drive towards Port Angeles.

Wearing the only dress she owned, a flapper costume from Halloween, while I wore an ill-fitting button down shirt she stole from Charlie's closet and clip on tie, we crashed our first wedding. Even though I was slightly nervous, I followed my fearless girlfriend's lead and we ate and drank our weight in free shrimp and vodka cocktails.

When a wedding guest at the buffet introduced themselves with a curious look of 'who are you and what are you doing here', Bella quickly answered with the name of her famous arch nemesis.

As in most high schools, there's the one girl that thinks she's better than everybody else. In ours, that girl was rich little daddy's girl, Jessica Stanley.

Not a day would pass that she wasn't making someone miserable with her fake plastic smile and backhanded compliments.

She'd flirt with boyfriends, almost hit you with her Land Rover in the parking lot before yelling at you for being in her way, offer her 'help' while ripping a poor girl a new one about a jacket she had on.

And no one got under her skin more than sweet, funny, and well-liked Bella Swan.

Bella had it all in Jessica's eyes. The admiration of students and teachers, a wicked sense of humor, and the envious quality of not giving a fuck. Plus, she had the one thing Jessica couldn't seem to get her hands on, a deeply-devoted boyfriend.

Jessica had recently been dumped by Mike Newton, and was convinced that he had a crush on Bella. Her efforts to gain back Mike's affection failed, and she blamed Bella.

An extremely loud and public accusation from Jessica flew towards Bella in the cafeteria when Bella made the horrible mistake of sitting next to Mike. Jessica yelled that she always knew Bella was secretly jealous of her; wanting to date her leftovers, dress like her, talk like her, to _be_ her.

So Bella handled it the only way someone like Bella would. She did what she was accused of, and _became_ Jessica.

Everywhere.

She began passing herself off as Jessica every chance of every day that she got. At school, at parties, she'd call herself Jessica Stanley for no real reason, which annoyed the fuck out of Jessica. Even though it was stupidly ridiculous and pointless, it still drove Jessica batshit, something Bella got a great kick out of.

So it was only natural for her silly game to cross over into her new favorite hobby of wedding crashing. We crashed any wedding she knew was coming up. We ate all the food, we drank all the booze, while Bella introduced herself to every guest as Jessica Stanley. She'd hit on the married men in front of their wives, stick silverware in her purse at the table in plain sight, attack me inappropriately on the dance floor, and generally caused everyone at any wedding to be appalled by this girl named Jessica until we got busted or grew bored and left.

I'm smiling at her now as she chats up the older couple. She's still that spitfire, still that girl that takes chances and doesn't care, and maybe it's a conceited thought, but I'm glad that my leaving didn't alter who she was.

"Let me introduce you to my boyfriend," she says, holding a hand out towards me.

"Mike Newton," I say easily, slipping into my old role as her wedding crashing cohort. "Beautiful evening for a wedding, isn't it?" It doesn't escape me that something Bella and I used to do so easily has become a direct correlation to how I live most of my life. Even then, I was trying on names and being different people with her.

The couple walks away to mingle and I slide up to her, my good hand caressing her bare back. "Boyfriend, huh?"

"It's what you were in our old life of crime."

"So it's just for tonight, then?"

"We'll see."

"What does it depend upon?"

"How much food you bring me. I'm really hungry." She wrinkles her nose and nods towards the cocktail hour spread.

"Don't move." I kiss her and get in line, filling a plate with the things I know she likes. Mini crab cakes, beef from the carving station, and lots and lots of cheese. She's accepting another drink from the bartender when I return and smiles at the plate I put in front of her.

"You remembered the cheese."

"Of course. A day Bella doesn't eat cheese is a sad day, indeed." She eats a few cubes and the toast I brought with it, before slicing into the meat.

"Want some? It looks pretty rare." Nodding, she feeds me like she did this morning, falling into her old role of making sure my meat is cooked the way I like.

This is _totally_ going to work out.

The bride and groom start making their way from the photo session at the sunset side of the bar to start mingling with guests, so when they near where we're sitting, I pull Bella up before they reach us. Walking between rows of tables adorned with lime green umbrellas and vases of white roses, I stop when we're a bit removed from everyone and automatically pull her into my arms, moving us slightly on the dock to the music from the band.

She glides automatically with my body, the two of us moving in sync like we were never apart. We're much better now than we were as teenagers, much less gangly, but it feels like home. I reach for her hand and clasp our fingers together.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Bella's staring at the bandage on the hand holding hers. Shit.

"It's nothing. Recreational accident." Sort of true. The music wells up so I spin her a little, hoping to distract her.

"When did you get so good at this? Dance with many women, have you?"

"I haven't danced with a woman since the last wedding we crashed."

"Really?"

"I told you, there's been no one since you."

"I thought maybe you were just saying that."

"Nope, it's true. There's only ever been you." With dread, a question forms in my mind. I swallow, and look up at the sky cursing as I turn her. "How about you, Bella? How many have there been?" I don't want to know, but I _have_ to know. She's quiet, tucked in on herself and pressing her body closer to mine, like she's hiding.

Oh fuck, it's that bad?

"Zero."

"Come again?" I'm incredulous as I lean down to get in her face and make her look at me.

"No one, there's been no one."

"How is that possible? You're so beautiful, and funny, and _you_ , and…"

"And pining over a ghost for the last thirteen years," she interjects. "Hardly good girlfriend material."

What _what_? Slack-jawed, I step away from her and run my hand down my face, despite the scratchy bandage. Walking a few feet away, I tug at my hair and try to get a grip on what I'm feeling, when I feel her hand on my elbow.

"Edward? What is it?" She's looking at me, her face filled with worry and concern. "I thought that would make you happy to hear."

"Happy? I'm hardly happy, Bella." I shake my head and close my eyes. "I thought I wanted that, I was wrong."

"I don't understand."

I turn to fully face her, hatred for myself twisting my features and making me ugly. "I took thirteen fucking years from you. How could I be happy about that? I _am_ a fucking monster, literally and figuratively." I walk away from her and begin to pace. "How fucking selfish of me to come back here and think everything I did to you could just be erased by a wink and a promise. Thirteen years! You fucking wasted thirteen years of your life on _me_ , someone who doesn't deserve you _at all_. You should be married, having babies, living the life you deserve. I shouldn't have left you with no word," I get right up in front of her, snarling my last words. "I should've lied and told you I _hated_ you. _Then_ you might've moved on."

A sharp slap comes across my face and I'm momentarily stunned. Bella stands before me, fuming with her injured arm in her hand. "Don't you do this, Edward. Don't you decide what's right for me one more time, you prick! I lived through that already and I'm not going to do that again."

"Your hand…" I reach for her to make sure she didn't hurt herself with the assault on my face.

"Fuck my hand, and fuck you." She jabs me hard in the chest with a pointy finger. "How dare you say you should've told me you hated me. You disappearing without a trace gave me _hope._ "

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Thirteen years of thinking you hated me would've been worse than thinking you were dead."

"You make no sense." I wave her off but she pulls on my hand, pinching where Jasper's crude weapon got me.

"Don't you dismiss me," she snaps. Reluctantly, I look back at her, self-loathing oozing out all over the dock. "As long as you were out there somewhere, I had hope that you'd come back to me."

"You said you wished I was dead."

"I _lied_ , you asshole."

"Well I came back for you, happy now?" Touching my cheek gently, the pulsing from her slap still stings as I look over at the crowd staring at the crazy couple fighting at a wedding.

"I was until about five minutes ago." We stare at each other, her little face mad while I look at her like she's lost her mind.

A waiter makes his way to us, "Excuse me, everything alright here?"

"Fine," we say in unison.

"Um, the bride and groom were wondering if you are invited guests?"

Bella looks at me with wide eyes, and I stare back at her much the same. "Ah, tell Randy and Brianna that we hope they'll be super happy together. Like us." Bella grabs my hand and pulls me past the waiter and through the tables, where the bride and groom begin to walk over to cut us off from leaving.

Bella skips around them with me in tow. "Brianna, you look beautiful! Randy you're a lucky man! Good luck! Never go to bed angry!"

"Mazel Tov." I salute them as I pass and Bella starts laughing as we make a run for it. Getting a good fifty yards from the restaurant, Bella stops and pulls up to hide behind a palm tree.

"Are they following?"

Looking over her shoulder and seeing no one, "Nope," I say, smiling.

"Well, that's a wedding everyone will remember. The batshit lady that slapped her companion."

"They'll say he probably deserved it."

"He did." She's breathing heavy but still laughing. "Fuck, these shoes _do_ hurt." She leans down and pulls them off, so she's barefoot on the concrete.

"Hey." I tip her chin up with my fingers, running my thumb back and forth across her chin. "I'd never be able to tell you I hate you. It would be impossible," I pause. "Did you really mean what you said?"

"I had hope, Edward. Always. That's why there was no one. I couldn't replace you." I kiss her hard and fast, pressed up against the tree until her lips are beautifully red. "This doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

"What can I do?" I say against her cheek, placing my lips on her skin repeatedly as she leans into me.

"Buy me some flip flops."

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 ** _And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace._**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Despite her request, Bella insists on paying for her new shoes, a pair of neon pink rubber things with sparkles on the straps. They look like something a four-year-old would wear, but she looks adorable as she sits on her stool, the sandal hanging off her big toe.

"Mmm, this is really, really good." She talks around the taco shoved in her mouth, the cheese, lettuce, and salsa falling from the end and landing on her plate with a plop. I signal the bartender to give us another round, as her margarita is dangerously low. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to get me drunk."

I waggle my eyebrows at her, before turning lecherous and sliding a hand up her thigh. "And I'd say you're not protesting very loudly about that fact." She giggles and doesn't swat my hand away, so I let it stay there while she takes the last few bites of her food.

We're sitting at the counter facing the street, looking out the open windows in Amigo's, a Key West treasure tucked on a side street behind Duval. The crowd is as noisy as the mariachi music playing over the speakers, and we're definitely over-dressed for the party atmosphere of the small taqueria that Bella insisted upon. I can't say I'm disappointed, as the casual setting is lessening the stress from our argument, and we both seem happy to be letting the alcohol float over us and take away from the serious edge of earlier.

The new drinks come and Bella wads up her napkin, throwing it on her plate before latching onto the margarita straw and taking a big sip. She leans her chin in her hand and smiling tipsily, speaks. "So, tell me how this 'Full' thing works."

My tequila is settling into my brain nicely, so I lean in closer to her, keeping my hand on her knee. "What do you want to know?"

"Is it something you _have_ to do, like a law?"

"No, it's not a vampire law or anything, but it _is_ a law of nature. There's no reason you wouldn't want to become a Full. It's like getting older for you." She slaps me on the arm at that. "It's just something that is destined to be."

"But you get to choose when," she states and I confirm. "How does that work? You get a membership card in the mail like AARP?"

"No, I have to drink from the person who created me."

Bella coughs. "Your father? You realize that's incredibly incestuous."

"Well, no, I hadn't until just now, so thanks for that."

"I think I'll skip that ceremony when it occurs." She makes a gagging gesture but smiles, and I'm thrilled that she's thinking in terms of still being around at that point in my life. "So why haven't you done that already?"

The million dollar question. "I'd like to say that I'm not ready yet, that I still want to live my human life for a while."

"But that's not the reason?"

"No, not entirely," I pause, taking a moment to ruminate on the answer I've kept hidden, even from Emmett. My answer to him is always, 'none of your fucking business'. But the night is too light to get heavy and tell Bella that deep down; I know I've been waiting for her. "Honestly, I don't think I'm quite ready to handle one of the side effects."

"And that would be?"

"My cock would grow another ten inches and be as thick as my forearm." I hold it out in front of her and push up my sleeve, her eyes growing wide. "I just don't think I'm ready for that."

Bella says nothing for a long moment, making me nervous, until she bursts into laughter and hits me again on the arm. "Bullshit!"

Her mirth makes me smile, and I slap her back lightly, shrugging. "It's hard to handle as it is, I can't imagine having an anaconda swimming around my drawers."

She talks through her laughing, something I'm enjoying hearing immensely. "You're an ass."

"Well, could you imagine it? Trying to say hello to your nether regions?" I begin making a punching motion with my fist. "I think your lady bits would sew themselves up upon seeing that monster aimed right for it."

"Stop!" She's doubled over laughing, hanging onto my knees. The position is one I like and have another comment about, but I don't want to push it. Things are going well.

"I think I've had enough." She pushes the half-empty glass away from her, coming down from her laughter with a big sigh and an equally big smile on her face. "What now?"

"You're not tired of me yet?" No, no, no. Please say no.

"Not just yet."

I wave the waitress over and look at the bill quickly, pulling some twenties out despite Bella's protests that she wanted to pay. Her complaint falls on deaf ears as I lead her out of the restaurant, her new shoes making that slapping sound against the concrete. I take her high-heeled sandals and carry them for her, entwining my other hand through hers.

Leading her back towards my hotel, I'm happy when she leans into me, pulling my arm up and over her shoulders as we walk like a couple in love. She snakes her arm around my waist and I feel her hand move into my back pocket. The thrill that little act gives me is immense, and I don't think my heart could be any fuller of Bella.

"It's a perfect night." She's looking up at the dark sky, the palm fronds waving softly overhead riding the light breeze coming from the gulf, but I hope she's referring to our first official date.

"It's not over yet." Once at the hotel, she begins to walk towards the bar, but I steer her away towards the parking lot.

"Not a nightcap? Hmm another surprise, maybe?"

"Maybe." Walking past a series of cars, I stop us in front of one sitting solitary at the end of the lot. She says nothing upon seeing the vehicle. "Or maybe not," I say nervously.

"Oh my God." Her hand leaves my side and moves to join the other covering her mouth. "It's Frankie."

* * *

The day I turned seventeen, in June of our junior year, I took the thousand bucks I'd made over the course of several winters shoveling snow and spent it on a broken-down, rust-encased 1967 Camaro. My mother thought I'd made the biggest mistake ever and tried to convince me to return it, offering even on her tight budget to help me buy a more sensible used car.

I wasn't having it.

Bella and I spent the whole weekend spraying the hunk of metal with gray primer to hide the rust spots and the mismatched green and black doors. Yorkie helped me replace the carburetor, a spare part we found lying around the junkyard that I bought for sixty bucks, and gave me an oil change. It was loud, exhaust-spewing, and ugly as shit, but it was mine.

And it gave Bella and me freedom.

It only lasted through the summer and fall, hence the stealing of Yorkie's bus the next spring. The floor rusted out and my funds ran out to fix it, but we made some fucking lasting memories in the car Bella affectionately named Frankenstein because of all its mismatched parts.

Standing in front of it now, I watch her as she runs a hand over the dry, matte paint job. "How? Where?"

"Same place I got the bus the other day."

"You rented it?"

"I _bought_ it."

Bella turns to me, a strange look on her face I don't quite comprehend. "You were so sad when the tow truck came to take it away."

Hearing Bella's words, I shrug, feeling strangely melancholy as I hadn't realized that when I bought this one. "I guess I'm trying to get _everything_ I lost back."

I'm suddenly teetering on my feet as Bella throws her arms around my neck and squeezes me hard. "I'm so sorry, Edward."

Smoothing her hair down her back, I close my eyes and press my head against hers. "What are you sorry for, baby?"

"I've been so selfish in seeing myself as the only victim here. You told me leaving me was hard, but I haven't even given any thought to what was happening to you. How scared, confused… how _frightened_ you must've been. To have to give everything you know up and become something you had no control over. I just… I'm just sorry I've been so caught up in how I feel and haven't taken into consideration how hard it's been for you, in ways I could never imagine. You must be so sad having to relive it."

"Bella." I take her face in my hands. "I know the road here wasn't what we planned; life didn't give us anything that we ever thought we'd have to deal with. But when I'm with you, I can't think about the what if's and the what might've been's, I can't be sad because we're here, now, on this island, standing in this parking lot together." I kiss her tear-stained face on both cheeks, before placing a kiss on her lips. "I'm the luckiest man alive. Rather, half-alive."

She laugh-sobs and I can feel the tension leave her. "I think I'm pretty lucky too. And for the record, I'm really fucking happy my ill wishes didn't come true, that you _are_ half-alive. And here with me."

We stay locked together for a while, listening to the buzz of the fluorescent light above us and the distant sounds of party-goers on Duval. "What do you say we take Frank out for a ride?"

"I say yes!" I walk her to the passenger side and hold the door for her; Bella enthusiastically climbs in and runs her hand over the cracked, black leather of the center console. Sliding in my seat, I start the engine; the loud growl is satisfying as I step on the gas to rev it. I do that three or four times, making Bella throw her hands out the window and shout a 'woo hoo' as I pull out of the spot and take off down the street.

* * *

"Another surprise?" Bella's sitting on the hood of the car in an empty beach parking lot, accepting the pipe I just filled, the music from my phone acting as a backdrop. "Can vampires smoke?"

"Sure. If you think regular teenagers are stressed out, think about how stressed a half-vampire teenager is." I hold my breath a beat longer before exhaling, the smoke rising up against the black sky over the ocean.

"Does it affect you the same way? Cause you used to get pretty ripped." She squints against the smoke and holds it, tilting her head back and letting it out.

"Less, which blew. Just meant I had to smoke more back then."

"You haven't done this lately?"

I think about the other secret I'm keeping. "No, I need to stay focused for work." I thumb my chest. "Big, responsible adult, here." But not tonight, because I'm giving a big ol' fuck you with both middle fingers to the handbook.

Bella takes another toke before passing it to me and leaning back on her hands. "Sucks, doesn't it? We were cursed by having such a kickass adolescence."

"We were definitely the coolest kids I knew."

We pass it back and forth a few more times, reminiscing happily, with no underlying animosity or pain from bringing up the past like it had earlier in the week. My head is cloudy in a really good drug-induced way, and I laugh out loud.

"What?" Bella asks, a lazy haze accompanying her smile.

"Remember the time we piled seven kids in the car, you on my lap, of course, only to get pulled over by your father?"

Bella giggles, pointing at me. "You rolled the window down, all 'Hello, Chief Swan, what can I do for you' and he just stared at you like you were on crack. You were too stoned to realize your hand had a death wish and was dangerously sitting on my left tit."

"I truly thought I was going to die a seventeen-year-old virgin because he was about to cut my dick off."

"That would've been a shame," Bella says, looking at me seriously before she slides off the car. I'm disappointed the evening seems to be coming to a close, but it's best to end it on a high note _(no pun intended)_ with the memories being full of life rather than turning to embers. She comes to stand between my knees, propped up on the front bumper and leans in towards me.

"I've forgiven you."

Such simple words, just three short examples of the English language, but nothing has ever sounded better. With a surge of powerful and unquestionable love for the girl standing in front of me, I lean down so I'm eye level with her. "I absolutely love you." She smiles quickly as I kiss her, her hands snaking around my neck and holding on tightly before she pulls away, taking my hand in hers and pulling me off the hood.

"My favorite memory of you and this car? Thursday, August twelfth." She takes my phone and fiddles with it and the beginning notes of our song, the one playing in her kitchen that first day, begins to flow from the tiny speaker. Swallowing, I follow her to where she leads, standing next to the driver's side door. "Do you remember that night, Edward?"

"It was the second best night of my life."

She quirks a brow at me as she opens the door and pulls the lever to move the seat forward. "Second best?"

"I think this is going to top it." She laughs slightly, smiling, and climbs into the backseat. "Are you sure about this, Bella?" The last thing I want is her acting on impulses she has no control over from weed, booze, and memory lane.

"I'm absolutely sure." She holds her hand out to me and I climb in, not as easy as when I was a thin, gawky teen. I hit my head on the ceiling and fall back on the seat. "Smooth, Mr. Cullen."

"I don't remember the backseat being quite so… compact."

"We managed." Bella moves and straddles my lap, her skirt falling on either side of my legs. She reaches back and pulls one flip flop off, then the other, throwing them out the open window and rests her hands on my shoulders. "I'm so fucking nervous," she admits.

" _You're_ nervous? What about me? If you recall, our first time was uh, less than mind blowing. I think I lasted exactly 2.5 seconds. We became experts, of course, but this is like being a virgin all over again."

"Well then, let's go for 3.5." Bella's mouth closes on mine and any hesitation goes out the window with her shoes. It doesn't take long for me to catch up and my hands slide under her dress and up her thighs as she moves. I grab her ass and squeeze, pushing her into my erection over and over. My knees are bumping the seat with every gyration she makes, but I'm so turned on I ignore the discomfort.

"Fuck, Bella, I want to rip this dress off of you." My mouth moves to her neck and sucks, sliding down and licking right above the beginning of her neckline. "You taste so good." She wiggles her hand down between us and grasps my cock through my pants. "Fuck!"

"You weren't kidding about vampire dick, were you?" She laughs and moves her hand around while I basically drool and make inhuman sounds.

"Laughing is never good when talking about a man's dick."

"Then stop me." Doing as ordered, I tug the top of her dress down and bare her breasts to my needy, deprived eyes. They're just as perfect as I remembered. "You haven't changed; you're still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." She meets my eyes and watches as I move my mouth to her nipple.

"Oooh, Edward." Her eyes close and her head hangs back, her hair falling down to curl on my knees. "Still so good at that." I take her nipple harder into my mouth and roll my tongue around it, giving it all the attention it's been lacking for thirteen long years. Biting down slightly, she jerks against my cock and grinds herself on me harder.

"I'm going to come like a seventeen-year-old boy if you don't slow down," I grit out between clenched teeth; the feel of her heat through the thin cotton of my pants is almost too much to bear. Raising her up and off me, I lay her down against the seat, her head bent against the sidewall. "Is this okay? Kind of squishing you, here."

"Mmm, it's great, just go back to the boob thing. They missed you." My dick tightens at the fact they missed me, and my mouth returns to her tits, sucking and licking while she's moaning and writhing beneath me. Her hands push my jacket off as best she can with the odd angle, and I take it off the rest of the way and fling it out the window. My shirt is next, her fingers moving down the buttons and pulling the shirttail out before pushing that off my shoulders, too. Soon my shirt and pants have joined everything else that's now lying out on the asphalt, and all that's left is her dress which she's shimmying out of with some difficulty.

She sits up and works her legs out of the dress and in the process, hits my head with hers and my cock with her foot all at the same time. "Ow!"

"Oh my God, I'm sorry!" She's stopped moving and in the moonlight pouring through the open windows I can see she's laughing, her eyes bright with amusement and trying to hold it in with her hand over her mouth. I suck in a breath through my teeth and rub my balls. "I guess this was a bad idea?"

My face turns into the demon, a low growl moving up my throat as her eyes widen at the sound. "This was the _best_ idea. Now pick your ass up so I can get this dress off already and fuck you like you deserve."

She grins maniacally and lifts her butt up, my hands moving swiftly to rip the dress off the rest of the way down her legs and that, too, lands out the window. I pick her up under her arms, her tits jiggling in front of my face, so I suck on them while I move her body so she's sitting up a bit more.

"These are going to have to go, I'm afraid." Fingering the lace covering the last part of her that's been denied to me for far too long, she excitedly nods as I begin to tug slowly. She starts to move her thighs back and forth to help, but before I even get an inch down her legs, I pull hard and hear the satisfying rip of material. "That's still the biggest fucking turn on." The underwear gets spared its trip out the window and I place the garment on the front seat of my car. That's a Key West souvenir right there.

"For me, too. I always loved it when you did that." Bella's breathing heavy, the same look on her face as when I'd do that lying above her on her twin bed, on the beach in the moonlight, or between classes in the janitor's closet.

My eyes roam over her naked body, slightly dewy and trembling from exertion and excitement, until they finally land on the rest of her, my heart swelling as much as my cock at the idea that I'm about to be inside my Bella again.

My finger traces the inside of her thigh, and I repeat the pattern on the other side, watching her stomach convulse and ripple. The idea that the slightest touch from me still makes her react causes almost too much ecstasy for one man to take. I watch her face as she watches my finger, slowly moving around her slit and teasing the wetness I can see in the faint light.

I continue eyeing her as I move my body slowly down, settling between her thighs as best I can in the cramped space, and take a long, greedy lick up her thigh, the tip of my tongue barely brushing against the top of her pussy. Saliva collects in my mouth as I inhale her, and I think about the blood lying just under the surface. I imagine I see the vein pulse there, ready for me to drink from, and I have to close my eyes tightly to get the thought of biting into her while she comes from my fingers out of my mind, so I don't jizz all over the leather seat of my new car.

Waiting is sweet torture, but watching her squirm to angle herself towards my waiting mouth is too much fun. Finally, she hits me on top of the head and pushes me down, so I take a deep breath of her, stick my tongue out, and taste every single bit of her in one swipe.

My eyes roll back into my head as I breathe out onto her wet pussy, intoxicated. "You're better than any wine, any scotch. Your taste is better than any blood I've ever had." I'm pleased to see she looks desperate instead of appalled at my admission, so I continue, saying what I really wanted to at her house this morning. "Bella, when I finally bite into you and drink you in, my fingers are going to be just as frantic to have you come on them as my throat will be to have you coat it."

The sound she makes is between a strangled moan and a pleading rumble, so I begin to devour her in earnest, my tongue sliding between her folds and hitting her in all the right spots. Her hands hold my hair and pull; her legs are as splayed as wide as possible between the front and back of the car. She's bucking and writhing, the leather squeaking beneath us as I suck, nip, and lick her into oblivion. She comes quickly and loudly, her stomach folding and her thighs shaking as I continue to taste her, slowing down my movements with her body.

"You sure you haven't done that since me?" She's panting, wiping the hair that's stuck to her forehead.

"I've done that many, many times in my head while getting myself off in my shower." My throbbing cock reminds me that he missed Bella too, and before she can regain her breathing, I hover over her, our mingled breath steaming up the back window despite the open air flowing through the car from the ocean breeze.

It's an awkward angle, but she slides down and I slide up and suddenly, the head of my cock is nudging her open.

As I slip into her, warm and wet and perfect, I dip my head at the surfing waves crashing through me. It all shoots through me in a burst of energy and light, making my skin burn. Everything I've ever lost, everything I never thought I'd feel again.

Bella _. Bella_ is everything.

I move further, going slow, and she curses slightly as I settle into her fully, a nice tight fit, so I stop and let her adjust a bit. "You okay?"

"It's like," she breathes heavy, "like we just… never… mmm Edward, it's overwhelming." She's looking at me with a slight tear in her eyes. "I've just missed you… I've missed _us_ , so, so much."

I thought it was a trait that half vampires couldn't cry. Now, I see, I just didn't have the right reason until this moment as my eyes begin to blur. Kissing her with everything in me, I pull back and wipe a tear from under her eye that's threatening to escape down her face.

"I absolutely love you." It's shaky, barely a whisper, but an exact repeat of how I said it that first time as a seventeen-year-old dumbstruck kid, locked in her arms as she whispered it back. I don't give her time to answer out of fear she won't, so I just move to kiss her until she starts prompting me with her hips to make her feel good the way only I have ever been allowed to do.

We make good use of the seats crowding us, pushing and arching, bracing and holding, our bodies moving together like there's been no distance between them. My cock is harder than it's ever been, sliding in and out of her as she takes every bit of it, and demands even more. Her nails scratch, the bandage on my hand falls off along the way, but nothing matters except the sounds she's making as she watches me pound into her.

"Oh, Jesus, Edward, I'm going to…" She slides a hand down and touches where we're joined, her tongue coming out to lick her lips as her fingers slide against my shaft, coated in her wetness. I'm barely hanging on, wanting her to come first, when she takes that hand and brings it to her mouth, licking the combination of us off of her like a goddamn ice cream cone.

"Bella, you're too fucking hot for words." I grit my teeth and continue pumping into her until she's yelling and coming and grabbing my ass, ordering me to come deep inside her, which I have no problem doing.

Falling on her, I'm too hot and sweaty to move. Bella's arms around me would prevent me from doing so anyway, and when my breathing slows, I look up at her and see her looking at me the way she did the first time we ever did this. There are stars in her eyes, bright and full of everything we are. The only thing that would make this an identical first time would be-

"I absolutely love you, Edward."

That.

* * *

I'm floating on air, on cloud nine, without a care in the world and every other clichéd phrase that fits the moment. I'm whistling _(whistling!)_ as I walk through the palm trees to my room, having dropped Bella off despite every fiber of me wanting to stay. She doesn't want to rush this, wants to go slow, which is fine because tomorrow, I finally have to dispose of my problem and even though she's the best distraction in the world, she's still a distraction and I need a clear head to be done with The Jizzjerk _(that's a good one, I'll have to share that with Emmett)_ once and for all.

Opening the door to my room, I let it close behind me with a content sigh and toss my key card on the dresser. I'm about to take off my jacket when in the reflection of a framed print, I see that the closet door is ajar. Knowing I'm meticulous about leaving everything the same way upon leaving a room to ensure noticeable changes, I walk casually to the floor lamp, watching the closet through the reflection as it soundlessly begins to open behind me.

Grabbing my gun from where it's stashed _(a new location every day, not in some mangled drywall, idiot)_ in the frosted glass dome of the upturned shade, I cock it and turn to the side, extending my arm to hold it out towards the intruder.

I'm less surprised at who I see, and I have to admit I'm slightly impressed he recognized me today, and the fact that he got into my room which I thought I'd safeguarded against lowlifes like myself.

"Who are you?" Jizzper _(another good one! I'm on a roll!)_ demands as he stands across the room, his gun aimed directly at me in return.

"Someone who is really fucking angry you've ruined his good mood."

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 ** _And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace._**


	15. Chapter 15

**I have to apologize again for not answering reviews for chapter 14. I read them all, I loved them all, but my busy real life kept me from you. I'm so very sorry.**

 **Chapter 15**

There's a slight shake to his aim, a faint hint of worry in his eye.

Advantage: me.

"I think a better question is why are you in my room?" I ask, a tinge of boredom to my voice, a tool I find useful when wanting to make the other party second guess themselves.

"Why were you following me?

"I was waiting for an opportunity to make a pass at you."

He looks startled. "Really?"

He's now for sure confirmed my thoughts that he's the biggest blockhead I've ever run across. "I like the way your butt looked in the shorts you had on."

He tightens his hold on the gun and moves it an inch higher, clearly unamused. "Do you _want_ to be shot?"

"Not particularly, but judging from today, I doubt you could even hit me from this close range."

"You have ten seconds to tell me who you are, why you're following me, and why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Ten isn't much time to describe how awesome I am."

"Eight."

"You don't want to shoot me here. First of all, you have no silencer which will alert anyone, including your wife below us, that gunshots have been fired. Two, you're way to curious to know who I am, and three, there's no way you'd get a shot off before I would."

It's obvious he's surprised I know his room is below mine, but before he can finish opening his dopey mouth to retort, there's a loud banging on my door which makes him jump. A familiar voice echoes through the plywood. "Edward, open the door!"

"Emmett?" I call out while holding my position. What the fuck? "Now's not an ideal time, exactly. Why don't you come back in ten minutes or so?"

He bangs again. "Let me in!"

"Me too!" The whine behind him makes me roll my eyes. Lovely. Resting bitch face has also arrived.

"Rosalie?" Jasper says, making me turn sharply towards him. Before I can move to the door, I hear the unmistakable sound of the mechanism kicking in, and suddenly Emmett is standing in my doorway with Rosalie peering over his shoulder at us.

"Jasper, put the gun down," she says, admonishing him like he's a five year old holding a crayon towards a pristine, white wall.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Rose?" Jasper sounds as confused as I feel.

"Fixing this situation you've got yourself in."

"What is going on here?" I yell over stupid and stupider towards Emmett. "How the hell does this asshole know your asshole?"

"Hey, watch your mouth, that's my wife," Emmett chastises me.

"And that asshole is my brother, you prick," Rosalie adds immediately.

Um, what was that? I hold the gun higher towards Jasper and speak to Emmett, ignoring Rosalie completely. "So did you hire me to kill him because he's a terrible hitman or because you don't want the family line to go any further than it has to?"

"You're a hitman?" Jasper sputters out, an incredulous look on his face.

"I'm offended you never heard of me. No, I take that back. That means if I'm not on your radar, I'm far better a hitman than you, Jazzdouche."

Emmett chuckles at that. "Okay, put the weapons down."

"Not until you tell me what's going on. I may have to redirect my aim at you. Why would you hire me to kill the twat's brother? Besides obvious reasons like you don't want him at family dinners? And how is it that he _is_ the twat's brother and you thought I didn't need this information? Or did you not know?" I wouldn't put it past battleax to have kept that selfishly to herself.

"First of all, stop insulting my wife or I will find your toothbrush syringe and use it on you."

"HA! I'd like to see you try."

"Rosalie? You were trying to kill me? What the fuck?" Jasper looks at his sister _(I should've known the two people I hate most in the world were related)_ with a sad, shaggy puppy look. Before she can answer, the door Emmett left ajar _(they're_ all _idiots apparently)_ opens and standing in the doorway is none other than the entire reason for my existence.

FUCK.

Bella looks at Emmett and Rosalie, then her eyes widen when they land on Jasper and me. "Is this a bad time?"

I can hardly dismiss her and tell her I'll call her later, wait for her to back out of the room, and expect her to want to see me again. Well, I guess this is it. The proverbial cat is outta the bag now. "It's a great time, come on in, Bella. I'd like you to meet what I regretfully call my family, not that I'd like to admit it to anyone. My brother, Emmett." I point to him with my gunless hand.

Bella's head snaps back to Emmett, who like a jackass holds his hand out to her which she ignores. Her face is laced with confusion which turns to concern as she looks at Jasper and realizes he's pointing a weapon towards me, evidently not noticing the one I'm holding. She surprises me by moving towards Jasper at a quick clip, and before he even knows what to do about it, she throws her moped keys across the room which he mistakenly _(truly, a disgrace to all hitmen everywhere)_ follows with his eyes before she high-kicks his arm, dislodging his gun and making it fly across the bed.

I've never been prouder.

"Who are you?" Bitch asks my woman, who turns with fire in her eyes.

"Who the fuck are _you_?" Atta girl.

"This is a family matter, if you don't mind."

"I do mind. Edward _is_ my family."

I am? "I am?"

"Maybe. Depends on what the actual fuck is going on here?"

I lower my weapon now that Jazzdouche is disarmed. Now's the time. All or nothing. She either takes this for what it is, or runs screaming to security and I jump out the window to my dramatic death.

"Bella, this is the brother I told you about and his…" Emmett gives me a warning glare, "Wife. Apparently your frequent barfly, Jasper here, is _her_ brother. We, ah, well, I'm not exactly in waste management."

"I'm stealing that one," Jasper says.

"Don't even think about it. It's _my_ line," I snap at him and turn towards the girl that might be about to decide I'm not longer the love of her life. "Bella, I've got something to tell you."

"There's something you thought was a bigger secret than you being a vampire?"

"Excuse me?" Jasper chokes.

"She knows?" Emmett says, smile on his face, taunting me. "Is this your girlfriend, _Eddie_?"

"Don't ever call me that or I'll cut your nuts off."

"Don't you dare." Rosalie says.

"Wait just a goddamn minute!" Bella shouts, her hands out to stop us all from talking. "What do you have to tell me, Edward? More secrets?" Her face is a world of hurt and confusion.

"Only to protect you." She snorts, shaking her head. "Well, mostly me. I was… afraid, Bella, if you knew the truth."

"What did you think would be more shocking than telling me you're Nosferatu in training?" She nods towards the gun in my limp hand. "You're in the mafia? An escaped convict?"

"No, nothing that distasteful."

"You're a half-vamp, half-werewolf?"

Emmett and I make the same sort of gagging sound at that. "Lord, no. Nothing so vile! I'm a hired professional in the art of killing. I'm a hitman."

Bella blinks twice. "A hitman," she repeats dryly, showing no emotion. No surprise, no disgust, no anything.

"Yes. I kill people. People hire me to kill other people." Saying it out loud to her is freeing, even if it sounds really bad.

"You kill people for money?"

"Yes."

"That's how you make a living?"

"Yes." I wish she'd just get on with the yelling already.

She keeps blinking at me, until she shakes her head to clear it. "Oddly enough, that isn't the weirdest thing I've heard this week." Bella rubs her forehead and looks around the room at the four of us. "You a hitman too?" She nods her head towards Emmett.

"No, I just run the business. Not that I couldn't be." Rosalie actually smiles and rubs his shoulder, assuring him he could while I snort at the absurdity.

"I'm a hitman," Jasper volunteers, to which Bella succinctly tells him she doesn't care, making me laugh out loud.

A big sigh escapes her as she puts her hands on her hips. "Okay. You're a half-vampire hitman. Anything else you've left out? You secretly knit with cat hair or rule at lip-sync battles?"

"I still play a mean air guitar, but no, that's it." I run a mental checklist to make sure, and clear myself. "You're not upset?"

"At you keeping it from me? Yes." I move to speak but she stops me. "I'm entirely too overwhelmed at the moment to process it all, but I suppose my first thought is that if someone has to do it, might as well be someone that can't die if things get hairy."

My eyes widen as I look at her, disbelieving. "You're not offended? Appalled? Ready to turn me in?"

"Do you only kill bad people?"

"Yes, only those who truly deserve it. It's, um, part of what I was telling you about. It's in my nature to want to kill; I just funnel it in a more appropriate way." Yeah, that sounds _not_ heinous.

"Well I suppose it's better than eating innocent people, is that right? I take it that's the alternative?"

"I guess?" Luck cannot be that much of a friend to me after all these years. "Are you really telling me you're okay with this?"

"I'm going to question the hell out of you once we're alone, but I think at this point, I'm fairly certain that you could tell me you eat babies and I'd look the other way to be with you." She rubs her eyes and raises them to the heavens, mumbling under her breath about not being able to choose who you love and something about a straitjacket.

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard!" Emmett coos which I ignore as I move towards Bella and tentatively touch her arm.

"I don't eat babies. I promise." Despite the audience, I lean down to kiss her sweetly. "Thank you, Bella. For accepting who I am."

She kind of sighs and chuckles, her whole body relaxing the tension she's had in her since entering the room. "If I can accept you're going to be a vampire someday that needs to treat me like a buffet, I can accept your choice of sketchy occupation. I'm less conflicted morally than I should be because seeing you with that gun kind of turned me on."

"Can we maybe end this episode of _Love Connection_ and get to more important things, like why you wanted this guy to kill me, Rosalie?" Jasper asks, waving his arms to gain our attention.

"I didn't _want_ him to kill you. We wanted Edward to assess you. Emmett would never have let it get that far."

"How would you have stopped me?" I ask my brother, offended.

"I have skills, bro. I could take you down."

Rosalie continues talking to Jasper, ignoring my brother and me. "We've been here all week, watching you two idiots. We would've stepped in before either of you had a chance."

"What in God's name would you possibly want to gain from this?" I say, incensed.

"Maybe we should sit down." Emmett motions to the patio, clearly nervous.

"I don't know about you all, but I need a drink." Bella moves to open the bottle of wine that had been restocked _(I'll have to remember to add one more star to my review)_ , and takes a healthy sip right from it.

Rosalie wrinkles her nose. "Guess I won't be having any."

"That's right, blondie. More for me." Bella fish eyes her and takes another chug.

I couldn't love her any more.

* * *

We finally settle the beverage situation and sit out on the balcony after I made sure the nearby rooms weren't occupied. Jasper has called down for Alice, who made a beeline for Bella when she entered and is overjoyed at the prospect that she and Jasper now have a couple they can double with.

Over my half-dead body.

"So, as you know, Edward, our numbers have been growing exceptionally well over the last year. I can barely keep up with the demand for assassinations," Emmett starts, only to have Bella interrupt.

"You sound like you're discussing mergers, not murders," she snorts.

He smiles at her and shrugs. "Business is business. This is the first time we've been able to take a breath and have a bit of downtime, Edward's been going non-stop."

I can't argue with that, as I hold Bella's hand as we pass the bottle between us. The murder business has been great, but this break worked out pretty good for me after all. "Get to the point, Emmett." I have to have sex with my _girlfriend_.

"We want to combine forces and take Jasper on as a co-worker, for lack of a better word."

"No!"

"No."

Jasper and I speak over each other. There's no way in hell I'm letting this half-wit, half-assed killer anywhere near my clientele.

"I don't need a partner," Jazzdouche nearly cries. "And no one has explained this vampire thing."

"Listen up, you moron. You need guidance. Regretfully, I have to admit that Eddie here"- Rosalie ignores my glare- "Is much better at it than you. You're too flashy, too in-your-face and that in the long run, does not make for good business. I sent you here on your honeymoon knowing Edward was going to be here. I hired him because I knew he'd be attuned to you and evaluate your every move so he could determine just how bad you are. I want you to learn from him, even if he is an insufferable asshole."

"Thanks," I tip the bottle at her and she raises her vodka to me. "I have one question, though." Everyone turns to me. "If you knew Jasper here was Rosalie's brother, why didn't you ever say anything?" I direct at Emmett. "You know I loathe him."

"I'm right fucking here!" he protests, which we all ignore, even Alice who seems to be inching herself closer to my girlfriend's side every minute and looking at her like she's Angelina Jolie.

"I know how much you and my wife hate each other, even though it pains me greatly," he says, placing a hand on his wife's knee. I actually feel a little bad at the sadness in his voice. "We thought it best to let you both operate by yourselves, not knowing who the other was. But times change, and we could become a powerhouse in Seattle. Two hired killers working together? Think of the money we can make. Instead of wasting time competing against each other, we'd be streamlining our shared end goals." Emmett tips his head in Bella's direction but looks at me. "And obviously, you're going to be wanting more time off. Am I right?"

She's remained mostly quiet during this explanation, eyes narrowed in concentration while sucking on the bottle, but Bella surprises me with what she says next. "If there are two of them, they wouldn't have to live in the same city. Edward could live here, with me, and you'd have quicker access to both coasts and everywhere in between. Cover more ground."

"That could work." Emmett says, nodding and thinking it through.

"But Jasper would have to train with Edward first for a while, he can't operate the way he has been," Rosalie agrees and I groan along with Jizzper.

"I don't need a babysitter! I'm a hired killer! I've killed lots of people without his help!"

"Jasper, remember that time that I had to, um, help because you got in that… situation?" Alice pipes up, and I swear I see her hand reaching towards Bella's leg under the chair.

"Alice," Jasper grits through his teeth. "I said we weren't to mention that."

"What happened?" Rosalie snaps.

"Nothing." Jasper pouts but Alice volunteers readily.

"I had to save him from a locked room. He was made and called me, so I had to take his target out and rescue him from a meat locker. He was pretty cold when I got to him, poor baby," Alice coos and rubs his head. I still think I see her trying to caress Bella though…

"I could've gotten him when you let me out," Jasper whines.

"You took out his target?" Rosalie asks, apparently impressed.

"Sure!"

"Interesting."

"We're not about to open a franchise! Especially with my wife!" Jasper shouts, standing up.

"Oh sit the fuck down." Rosalie waves at Jasper who like a scolded puppy does as he's told. "It's just good to know that we have Alice here, not to mention Bella disarmed you fairly quickly. Who knows what the future could bring? But that's a discussion to be had later. Right now, this is what we're doing. And Jasper, if you don't like it, consider yourself out of business. I'll make sure of that myself."

Jasper throws his arms across his body but finally nods, acquiescing. I really hate these two but it's sort of fun watching them fight.

I turn to Bella, the only person's opinion I care about. "Is this really something you want? Me living here, with you?" It's more than I could've hoped for, or imagined. Could I really work out of Key West so I could be with Bella? Could I really work _less_? Maybe training the Jizzman isn't such a bad idea.

Bella turns and leans towards me, clutching the almost empty bottle tightly. I think she's moving mainly to get Alice's hand off of her, but I'll pretend I'm the sole reason for her closeness. "The thought of you leaving again is something I don't ever want to have to deal with. That's why I was coming here tonight. To tell you that I refuse to live without you, now that you're back. It's a non-entity, a non-question, you and me being apart. It simply doesn't make sense in the universe."

"It absolutely doesn't make sense," I smile huge, skewing our lyric of love.

"Well that's about to make me sick, I've had enough for one night." Standing, Rosalie motions towards the door. "Let's go, Emmett. We can work out the particulars tomorrow when this one," she thumbs towards Jasper, "stops acting like a pussy."

I swear he gets up and stomps his foot, following Rosalie's lead. "I need a drink, come on Alice. Let's go to the bar." She follows after giving both Bella and I hugs, which I don't think either of us enjoyed, and soon the room is clear of my brother, a pair of asshole siblings, and a possible lesbian.

We stand in silence, shell-shocked at the night we've had. "That went well," I offer, to which Bella just looks at me. I'm nervous now that we're alone she's going to rethink all she's said. "Bella, if you were to tell me to leave right now, I would. I'd-"

"Shut up." She crosses the room and lands in my arms, her head nestling against my chest. "Don't even joke about it. You're not allowed to even go buy lottery tickets without me tagging along from now on."

"Might make my job difficult."

"I'll be the Matilda to your Leon."

"I think the ages are reversed."

"Speaking of, I guess we have some shit to figure out. Like, when are you going to change, and what happens when you do. What happens to me? And-"

"Can we talk about it in the morning? I'd really just like to enjoy playing with my naked girlfriend for the rest of the night."

"Fiancée, Edward. I've been waiting thirteen years. If you don't make me your fiancée after all of this, I'll hire Jasper myself to take you out. Then I'll woo Alice."

"Fiancée?"

"I want a big ring, too. Like ginormous. For all the fucking shit you've put me through."

"You want to marry me, Bella Swan?"

"The sooner the better. I think that makes me insane."

"You might change your mind?"

"You never know."

"Then let's do it. Let's be insane together." I get down on one knee, no ring, no bad romantic music, nothing but years of devotion towards the prettiest girl I've ever seen. "You were the first and only girl I've ever kissed. You're my first love, my first sexual experience, my first taste of a life of crime when we shoplifted rolling papers at the Ready Mart, and I promise you'll be the first and last person I drink from."

"This is very romantic," she rolls her eyes and tries to hide her smile.

"Marry me, Bella Swan. Right here, tomorrow. There's nothing I want more in life than to spend the rest of it with you. I've waited long enough, _you've_ waited long enough. We've been given a second chance, and I promise this time not to screw it up. I absolutely love you, and I absolutely know that I can't imagine not being ridiculous with you for eternity."

That does it, the smile breaks free and she joins me on the floor, grabbing my hands. "I absolutely love _you_ , and I can't wait to be absolutely fucking ridiculous with you for forever."

* * *

So as it turns out, because of Florida law we had to wait three days once we filed for our marriage license to actually get married. Fuckers. Bella didn't want to wait and suggested that we have a spiritual ceremony instead of a legal one, especially because of the whole tricky 'real name' situation I'd be put in on legal documents, but I insisted we do things right this time around and be bound together forever by a sheet of paper. Who knew I was such a traditionalist?

The three days has afforded me the opportunity to try to get to know Bella's friend, Kate, who despite the fact that we've come to an agreement to be on good terms for Bella's sake, is giving me the ol' stink eye over Bella's shoulder as she stands up for Bella in the role of maid of honor.

Could be worse, I suppose, she could've asked her about to be twat-in-law.

I direct my attention back to the sole reason I'm standing in a linen suit with bare feet ( _which Bella applied the 50 SPF to in a fantastic post-sex massage before we left_ ) and smile. The girl of my dreams ( _and every waking thought, let's be honest_ ) is standing in front of me in a beautiful, white flowy dress with the purple flowers from her garden stuck randomly throughout her wild curls, about to commit to a marriage that will eventually consist of blood sucking, life without cheese, and my penchant for assholery for all of time.

These three days has also given Emmett time to become ordained on the internet, something I was against initially for the sheer stupidity of it, but Bella thought would be fun. They've built a fast friendship, which pleases me more than I thought it would, but the best part is, Bella hasn't changed her dislike for Rosalie, which pleases me even more.

The horrid woman is standing off to the side with Jasper, who still looks confused about what's going on around him and hasn't stopped whining about it, while Alice has embraced the idea of the vamp lifestyle wholeheartedly and has begged Emmett and I to turn her, which we've refused to do.

As if I need her sniffing around my soon to be wife for all of eternity. Hell no, son.

Wife.

Bella.

 _My wife Bella_.

It's all so surreal as Emmett prompts me to recite the vows I'd finally perfected just last night. How does someone put into words _(suitable for public consumption)_ just what the love of your life means to you? Smiling at her and squeezing the hands she's had in mine since we got here, I do my best.

"The first time I ever saw you, you had horribly uneven bangs due to an unfortunate home beauty snafu. You walked in to your first day at a new school all smiles and friendly to everyone, not caring about how you looked, not caring that you'd tripped and your books flew everywhere, and not caring about anyone that might be snickering behind your back. But I took one look at you, and to me, you were perfect. Life with me isn't going to be perfect for you, far from it, but mine already is because you've decided to put up with me even when you had the chance to run."

I hear a bit of chuckling from the five person crowd, but I only have eyes for her. "I thought it then, and I think it now - you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen. I promise you, Bella, to always take care of you when you fall and hurt yourself or drink too much from a boozy coconut. I promise to love you and accept _your_ love for those big air-filled stick men that hang out at used car lots. I promise to always burn the popcorn and feed you M &M's, I promise to never throw out a photograph, and I promise to draw on you anytime you want. But mostly, I promise to never leave your side, not even when you really wish I would." She laughs and pulls our hands up to brush at her eye before letting them fall again.

"Bella, forever won't be long enough to thank you for giving me another chance, for giving _us_ another chance. David Bowie was a genius, and my seventeen-year-old self is lucky he was able to speak for me. But I hope that if he'd never come up with those four words, that I eventually would've. One of my favorite things to say to you is a phrase I never thought I'd have the chance to say again and will say to you every day for the rest of our existence - I absolutely love you."

The glow on Bella's face tells me I nailed it, and while she's not sobbing like some might, there's definitely a glistening beneath her lashes. I'm slightly nervous to hear what she has to say back, part of me still not trusting the world isn't fucking with me and I'm really not the luckiest bastard in the world, about to have the rug _(or sand)_ pulled out from beneath him.

"I tried to write something down to capture what this last week, what these last thirteen years, what the prior two were before _that_ mean to me, but I kept coming up short. There are no words to describe the depth of feeling I have for you. Even when you annoy me and choose things for me I wouldn't choose for myself, I know you do them with a big, red, beating only for me heart."

I smirk at her choice of imagery as she continues. "You promised me things, and I promise you the biggest thing I can give you - me, forever, to share your extraordinary life and all that comes with it. Even your inability to keep plants alive, your annoying snobbery of all things alcohol, and your habit of scratching your feet with your toenails, something I don't even think you realize you do. I love all the things that come with you - your hair and your mad air guitar playing skills. But most of all, I love the way you love me, the way you never stopped, and I love that I never stopped loving you. I absolutely love you back."

I'm swooning like a girl at a Justin Bieber concert, and everyone fades from the periphery as Emmett proclaims us husband and wife. Grabbing Bella, I throw my arms around her and pull her into me, kissing her with so much force she bows back slightly. I don't stop the kiss as it deepens, despite the hooting and hollering _(only from Emmett and Alice, everyone else can go suck it)_.

We stand upright and Bella pulls on my shoulders making me lean down to her where she presses her lips right against my ear, her breath tickling and her soft voice only for me.

What she says makes my eyes widen with realization that a promise whispered late at night had not been secret at all.

"You were right. You married me, Edward Cullen."

* * *

 **Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.**

 ** _And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace._**


	16. Chapter 16

**There's still time to sign up for this year's meet up in San Diego! I'll be getting up close and personal with YOU and answering any nd all questions you might have for me! Hope to see you there, it's really a special event, one I wouldn't miss!**

 **Chapter 16**

 ** _Six Months Later_**

"Do you feel any different?" Bella asks from the couch as I walk into the house she once claimed as her own, but I've now moved me and my meager belongings _(besides my stocked weapons safe)_ into.

And added a second floor, changed the locks, got a gardener and fixed her driveway.

I hold my hands out, flipping them back and forth in front of me. "Not really. I mean, I thought my cock would grow but it turns out, it's already huge and _couldn't_ grow anymore."

"You're an ass."

Flopping down on the couch next to her, I give her my best devilish look. "I have a pretty good one of those, too."

"Seriously, what happened?" She starts playing with my hair, but I can tell she's really trying to get a good look at me, to see if I've changed at all - marble skin or weird colored eyes, _something_ to make me not appear human.

"He took me to a dark room, surrounded by candles. There was chanting and in the middle of a gathered crowd, a virgin lay bare ready for me to drink from." Bella just looks at me like I'm an imbecile. "We met at his hotel room, he sliced open his wrist with a pocket knife and I took a few mouthfuls. Done." I shrug, thoroughly unimpressed with the lack of pageantry. "He did pat me on the back and welcome me to the world while my mother hugged me."

Bella looks as unimpressed as I am. "That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it. Emmett came by after and we played some poker. See? You wouldn't have been intruding at all."

"I wasn't concerned about intruding; I was concerned it was going to get weird. I didn't want to feel any _Game of Thrones_ vibes."

"I can promise it'll get weird when I change _you_." I start running my hand up and down her thigh. "Just you and me so you can be naked, wearing only a mask with bad porn music in the background."

"Great. Looking forward to it." Bella rolls her eyes. "So what about everything else? How do you physically feel? Do you feel weird? Different? Powerful?"

Thinking, I formulate my thoughts. "I feel more powerful, yes, more… exact. I can't quite describe it. Like every movement I make is the correct one. `1 I feel very precise, if that makes sense." She says nothing, just waits for me to tell her more. "I'm stronger, that I know. But maybe for a human, becoming a vampire will be more of a change than a Half becoming a Full. We'll have to compare notes."

She continues to rub my hair while I think about the conversation we started at the taqueria the night Bella told me she loved me. "Remember when you asked why I hadn't become a full yet and I said that I wasn't ready, that I wanted to live my human life?"

"I do."

"It was a lie."

"Edward Cullen, I thought our lying days were over."

"The truth is, deep down I was waiting for you. Part of me knew I wouldn't be able to change until the one thing that was missing from my life was found."

She smiles, running her hands through my hair. "That's a good reason. And very sappy." My eyes close at the satisfying feeling of utter completeness as she continues the head massage, which feels like millions of nerve endings tingling and shuddering at once. A feeling so amazing I might be purring.

Moving in for a kiss on her neck, I take note of how different she feels under my lips. She's warmer, has more texture, I can feel the little hairs against my skin and hear her breathing change slightly. Her clothes are silkier under my touch; my fingers feel each satin thread as they ghost over the material that makes up her pajamas. Opening my eyes and looking at her, I see the dozens of colors in her irises, see each eyelash like they're magnified and blackened by ink.

Realization dawns that I have all these thoughts moving in my head all at once, hundreds of little sparks lighting up my brain and having separate, full conversations and coming to their own conclusions and resolutions.

My first thought is what a powerful gift I've been given, one I'll be sharing with my wife whenever she chooses.

The other is, with these heightened senses, I'm going to become the best fucking hitman _ever_.

Smiling briefly at that awesome thought, there's something on my mind I'm more excited about at the moment, so I start inching my hand between Bella's closed thighs. "Can I take my wife to bed so I can show her my new vampire lovemaking skills?"

She giggles, and then kisses me, pulling back slightly. "Aren't you… hungry?""

My throat begins to burn slightly as I focus on it. It's something we've discussed at length, me finally biting into her flesh to suck the sweet blood out of her veins. I'm dying for it, she's greedy for it, but I'm a sick, mean bastard and I've got plans I'm not willing to share with her just yet. "I'm hungry, yes, but not terribly. Carlisle's blood is potent, so you're safe for now."

I smirk internally when I detect the slight disappointment on her face. "Well, take me to bed then. I'm dying to see what changes lay _there_." She eyes my growing cock.

"I told you, nothing could make that any more magnificent than it is, but being inside you, well, I've kind of been thinking about how that's going to feel all night."

She jumps up off the couch, practically running with me quickly behind as we both climb up the stairs two at a time to our bedroom. She starts taking off her clothes, but I stop her, wanting to experience every sensation of this first time of making love to her as a Full.

The plastic buttons of her top are smooth under my fingertips as I slip them through the holes, the fabric making a whooshing sound as it hits the floor that only I can hear. Moving to her shorts, I take my time pushing them down her legs and run my hands over her perfect body. My fingers feel every molecule of her soft hips and thighs, her knees and calves, before I turn her and move my way back up behind her, feeling the crease of her ass cheeks, the barely there vertebrae of her back. My fingernails tingle as they brush the silky hair that falls down her back to lie over one shoulder. Her Tahiti Island Dream is fog-inducing, strong and heady, swirling around her and making me drool at the sheer deliciousness of memory as it perfumes her skin.

Slowly, I lower my mouth to her shoulder, every fine hair and every faint freckle registering on my tongue as I lick her skin, kissing a trail up her neck to her jawline. "You're overdressed," she says, panting, her hands running up my jeans to reach the button on my pants. I lean back slightly to hinder her movement, only to hear her barely there sigh of frustration.

"Uh uh. I've been thinking about this moment for years, having you as a Full. Don't rush it, you bad girl, or I'll stop."

Her throat undulates as she swallows, my lips enjoying the subtle movement. My hands move from her shoulders and across her back to skim her sides, the muscles there tightening as she shivers. "You have to tell me if I press too tightly, if I'm being rough. I'm not sure I'll know."

"I don't mind it rough, you know that," she taunts.

"We'll work up to that as soon as I know my full strength. But for now, promise me you'll tell me if I begin to hurt you."

"You're not going to go all soft and romantic on me out of fear, are you?" The note of derision in her voice makes me smile against her back. It only takes a millisecond to weigh my strength, her weight, and how near the bed she is to calculate how rough I can be.

"Be careful what you wish for," I answer before pushing her face down onto the bed, where she bounces slightly as she lands. My new vamp eyes pick up the rippling skin of her ass and hips like it's moving in slow motion, and my cock grows thicker at the sight.

She squeals and looks back at me, her face a mix of surprise, playfulness, and desire. I'm on top of her immediately, but the newly loud scratching sound of denim against her bare skin annoys me so I maneuver my hand between us to unbutton myself. Bella presses her ass back against my hand, causing pressure against my raging cock.

So I slap her ass a little to keep her in place.

My body is off and arched over hers in an instant, tense in realization of what I just did. "I'm sorry! Did that hurt?"

The look she shoots me from over her shoulder is venomous. "Edward, I'm not going to put up with you worrying every time we fuck. I promise to tell you. Now man up and do that one more time!"

I think I just fell in love with her all over again.

My hand falls on her backside in a slap, and I can see the red forming that no one else would be able to see. As much as I trust she'll let me know if I hurt her, it's up to me to control the physical side of things for now. Sliding off of her, she groans, but I assure her it's only for a second to get naked.

As she watches with lust-filled eyes, I prove that it is, in fact, only a second as with lightning speed, I'm fully disrobed before she has the chance to blink. "That's going to come in handy," she says, eyes wide.

Not wanting to rush things further, I take my time laying my now naked body down on top of hers. The sensation of my skin on hers is firing atom bombs throughout my body, every cell and neuron exploding on impact. I lay there and enjoy how she feels for a moment, inhaling the scent of her neck as my hands move reverently up her sides and under her, where her breasts are lying flat against the bed. Squeezing them, she moans along with me. "You have no idea how incredible you feel. Every part of you. You're so soft, so strong. Smooth and velvety. Your nipples," I say as I pinch them gently. "So hard but silky all at the same time."

I continue to feel every inch of her with every inch of me. My legs feel her, my knees feel her; even the hard bones of my elbows feel her. Every piece of my skin that's pressed against her is filled with ecstasy, including my rigid cock, which is screaming at me to move. Shifting slightly, I nestle myself between her cheeks and hold breath I no longer have use for so I don't come like a frat boy all over her back. "Jesus, Bella. I wish I could tell you what this feels like, but I'm seriously out of words."

"Imagine what it'll be like when we're both feeling the same way," she says, breathing heavily for both of us. "Soon, Edward, I want to change soon." Bella's body writhes under me as my mouth begins sucking the skin of her neck.

As I enjoy the satisfaction of the sounds she's making from my attention, the taste of her on my tongue becomes excruciating. The urge to bite into her tender flesh and drink her intoxicating blood is overwhelming, making saliva pool in my mouth. "We have plenty of time to figure that out," I whisper against her as I feel my face beginning to shift, becoming the dark creature that has much more feral needs. "But right now, sweet Bella, I'm going to fucking _devour_ you."

With no warning, my new razor-like teeth penetrate the skin on her neck like a warm knife sliding into butter. She gasps loudly as they sink into her, but I hold her still with my mouth, impatiently waiting for the millisecond of time it takes for her blood to start flowing.

When it finally bursts onto my tongue, my eyes roll back into my head. It's better than any song I've ever heard, better than any orgasm I've ever had, better than any kill I've executed. Her sweet blood riles then soothes the monster within me, its flavor in my throat better than anything the greatest chefs in the world have ever tasted.

Just like _she_ was, all those years ago, this blood, _Bella's_ blood, was made exclusively for me by the demonic Gods above.

Forcing myself to pull back, I close the wound with a quick swipe of my tongue. "Bella." She's still, her heart beating fast against my hands and I worry that she didn't like that surprise at all.

The sound she finally makes is desperate, a harlot begging for more. "Oh my… Edward. Oh fuck, I want to see you," Bella urges as she begins moving, trying to flip over. "I want to _see_ you do thatto me."

Relieved and impossibly turned on even more, I allow her the tiniest amount of body distance so she can maneuver herself, before pressing back on top of her. My mouth instantly moves towards her breasts, licking and sucking the surrounding skin of each nipple without allowing myself to take them in my mouth just yet. She's twisting under me, her legs opening on instinct to cradle me against her. The warmth of her pussy on my dick as she continues to move under me, and her wetness dangerously close to allowing me to slip inside is exquisite, but the promise of another taste while she watches trumps the urge to enter her.

The wife has made a request, after all.

I grasp her wrist and bring it to my mouth, placing a gentle kiss and letting my teeth tease the vein that's a million colors under my vision. "Please," she whispers, her eyes following the movement of my tongue as I lick the spot I intend to bite mere inches in front of her.

"You're kinky, Bella Cullen."

"And impatient."

Pulling my lips back to expose my teeth which are now poised and ready, I smile devilishly while watching her face as I begin to press against her, until her skin begins to give and I sink into her warm, docile flesh. Her breathing escalates as I drink slowly, just a bit, just enough of a taste. Her eyes widen then fall, hooded with desire, never leaving the sight before her. When her tongue peeks out of her open mouth and licks her lips, I almost come.

Sealing her second wound, I begin to move down as she protests, but wisely stops when she sees the path my mouth is taking. There's a faint line of smeared blood following the trail I'm creating, and I fight the urge to lap it all up. I leave it there, letting it mingle with the faint sweat dusting her skin, the aroma of the mixture filling the room.

Finally sucking in a nipple as I move down her body, I groan at the taste and try not to bite too hard. Her hands in my hair tell me it's just enough pressure as they grip and pull, forcing me closer to her so my whole face is pressed into her cleavage.

"Tell me how it feels," I say as I bite into the soft flesh under her breast, and her answering moan tells me all I need to know. She jerks against me, shuddering, so I seal that bite quickly, anxious to continue, her whole body moving and on the verge of orgasm.

"You were right. This is the best fucking foreplay in the history of foreplay. Oh my God." She pants and wipes her hair out of her face, her eyes watching every movement I make anticipating what's next.

"I just want to make you feel good, Bella, forever."

"It's nothing I can describe." She shakes her head, eyes filled with lust and wonder. She snakes a hand down between us and I feel the light touch of her fingers as they slide against the tip of my cock. "Tell me how _this_ feels," she purrs.

Gasping for control and moaning, I honestly can't form any cohesive sentences to describe the pulsing fire raging inside me as her hand grips me fully, while the taste of her blood still lives on my tongue and in my body. "Am I hurting you?" she teases, waiting for me to form words.

Fighting the urge to come, I slide myself within her grip slowly, and once I've calmed down, I smirk at her. "Hurt me? Mmm, you'll never be able to knee me in the balls again. This whole changing into a vampire is worth it just for that fact alone."

"Damn. Flying objects won't be hurting you anymore, either. I'm going to have to use the silent treatment to inflict harm."

My cock is extremely close to being satiated, so I gently remove myself from her grasp and focus on her, distracting myself. "Won't matter. I can now read your mind. Did I fail to mention that?"

She stills beneath me instantly. "You're fucking lying."

"Let's see." I begin to move further down her body, kissing the soft skin around her navel and licking each hipbone. "You're hoping I continue my travels, maybe stopping by the holy land for a quick taste." My nose inhales her as it nears her center and if I could die, I would from sheer bliss alone. Bypassing where I know she wants my tongue, I continue down her thigh, sucking on the soft skin that lies inside. "Now you're calling me all sorts of names for teasing you."

"Proves nothing. I'd say that out loud to you," she huffs and squirms, trying to get me to move back up to where she wants me. My mouth moves slowly as my finger begins to trail up her leg, before faintly tracing the top of her slit. "Oh!"

Her desperate sounds make me want to tease her even more, regardless of the fact I'm torturing myself as well. Swallowing and tasting the lingering blood in my throat, I close my eyes, slide my finger inside her wetness, and taunt with my teeth higher up her thigh. "Now, you're thinking, this isn't so bad, he can do this for a while."

"Feel free," she pants while her hips begin to move faster with my finger moving in and out of her. I brush her clit a few times, making her buck into me hard.

"Let's see, now I think you're screaming inside, 'please, Edward, make me come'. Might that be correct?"

"God, yes! Yes. I want to… Oh!"

A second finger joins in and I begin massaging her clit for real, circling and diving inside her. She's dying to come, but I can tell she's trying to hold back as my fingers pick up speed and my mouth crawls ever closer to her pussy.

"I'll tell you what _I'm_ thinking." Looking up her flushed body as it writhes and moves, her eyes meet mine, waiting, urging, _begging_ me to continue. "I'm thinking I'm awfully hungry all of a sudden and ready for the main course."

Her head snaps back and she moans loudly at the feel of my mouth clamping down on her skin, my teeth biting and slicing the soft flesh in the bare crease where her leg meets her pelvis. My fingers continue to pump in and out of her as she begins to orgasm, the blood from her artery fluidly spilling into my mouth like water to a dying man. Warm, wet, and flowing freely, it coats my mouth and throat just as she comes so spectacularly, so violently, her hands grip my hair almost painfully to prevent me from pulling away.

The burn in my throat intensifies as I take my first lengthy drink, until her blood feels like pure honey soothing the ache and filling my veins with sweetness. My cock on the other hand is ready to explode, so I shut her wound and snake my way up her body. I'm conscious enough to take a quick moment to check and make sure that she's okay, that biting into her four times and drinking more each time isn't too much for her.

Her eyes open slowly, as her body gasps for air. The look on her face is pure ecstasy. "Is it possible to come so hard you actually lose sight?" Her whole body is shuddering as she pulls me to her, kissing me hard on the mouth that just drank from her before I can ask if she's alright. "I want you inside me, right now." She pushes on my ass to get me to enter her.

Hesitating for only a second as I assess her breathing and heart rate, finally discerning from a quick eye exam that she's blissed out and not about to _pass_ out, I push the head of my cock inside her slowly, to savor what I expect to be the fucking best _fucking_ of my life.

I plunge inside, every piece of me firing on all cylinders as I ignite and burn, feeling every sensation as it flows through my body and out into the universe. There are hundreds of emotions, thousands of thoughts within me, but there's only one word that I have the strength to utter. "Bella."

I say it as my body is finally flush with hers, my cock expanding and filling her as her legs wrap around me, trapping me.

As if I have any thought about leaving.

Moving slowly, I relish each new sensation as I slide in and out. Her nails on my back, her lips on my skin, and her heels on my ass, every part of her and every moan she breathes accepting what I am, what I just did, and what we'll be for the rest of time here on Earth and wherever we may land beyond.

When her breathing picks up again and her body begins to move faster, I increase my pace and fuck her hard at her prompting _(well, as hard as I'll allow)_ , my body slapping against hers and making us move up the bed. "Edward, bite me," she demands, and just as I'm about to let go for the first time as a Full, my mouth locks onto her neck and I pull deeply as I feel her shudder around me a second time.

I swipe my tongue over her quickly, wanting to see her as I come deep inside her. "I… absolutely…" I can't even finish getting the words out as I feel my insides rip from my body and pour into her, over and over again for what feels like the eternity I'm destined to live through.

"Me too," she breathes, hugging my body to hers. Letting out a final groan, I _(carefully)_ slump my full weight against her. My mind is blank, purely white and void of any comprehension as I let the lingering electricity circulate, and finally vacate, my whole being.

Heaven. That's what heaven is. I'm not a monster, there's no way _that_ is punishment for anything I've ever done.

We lie silent for a bit, her breathing hot in my ear and my eyes closed, until my arms envelop her and flip us so she's lying on top of me. I'm already thinking about when we'll be able to do that again, as I assume my recovery time is nil, but she'll need her rest.

My hands grasp her face and I kiss her deeply, trying to convey how strongly every part of me is reacting to her in my new body. A ten thousand word soliloquy wouldn't ever come close to how I'm feeling at this moment. Pulling back, I smile at her as her eyes hold their dreamy expression. "You're perfect, Bella. I thought you were before, but now… now you're a word that hasn't been invented for the epitome of perfection."

"Your new eyes can probably see all my cellulite. Great."

"I love it even more now."

She laughs thankfully, and we lie there quiet and peaceful. But that's when the worry starts. "I didn't ask…"

She shushes me with a finger against my mouth. "Don't you ruin this for me. It was better than anything we could've planned. In fact, I'm afraid I'll never be able to come without that." She smirks.

Even though I was pretty sure she was more than okay with it, I'm relieved to hear it. "You enjoyed me feeding off you that much? You _are_ kinky."

She snorts, which makes her stomach rub against my cock, already hardening for round two, and my throat itching for dessert. "Damn, Edward. If it's going to be like that every time, maybe I'll stay human just for that."

"You and Rosalie will have that in common, now. Think of the girl talk over bad drinks in tacky, plastic tiki glasses you could have."

"On second thought…" She laughs, smiling lazily. In the dim light from the lamp on the nightstand, I let my Full Vampire hitman eyes roam over my wife. Her hair is frizzy and stuck to her forehead, her skin is blotchy and holds a bit of sheen, there are faint bite marks dotting her pale flesh, and she smells like sex and blood and me.

She's still the prettiest girl I've ever seen, and now she's mine forever.

 _Poor girl_.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **Well, that's all she wrote _(that Edward would allow me to share)_. I know some of you are itching for a peek into the future, and maybe someday it'll make its way out of my head. I know, I know, I've said the same thing about some of my others. But never say never, right?**

 **This was a COMPLETE BLAST to write, and I've had so much fun sharing it with all of you. Truly, every review, every compliment _(you think I'm funny!)_ has made me smile and swoon and fall in love with each and every one of you.**

 **Ceci – Damn girl, another awesome banner! Working with you is a joy _(especially when you read my mind when even I don't know what's in it)_. Thanks, babe. You're the best.**

 **I could never have had the nerve to do this without my own C+C Music Factory, the Carrie's.**

 **Lay – For you _(the queen of comedy writing)_ to tell me that I can be funny and that I made you laugh, well, that's just the cats pajamas. Thanks for all you do for me, in fic and in life. Love you, pal.**

 **CarrieZM – Sigh. I'm still cleaning up the pizza confetti and sad that another one is over. You had faith in me when I didn't, assured me when I was unsure, and worked on this when you truly had no time left in your day. You will always be my muse _(just give me a little time before you spark another idea, mmkay?)_ and I love you more than Edward himself.**

 **Last but never least, thank YOU, dear readers, for still wanting my words even though the fandom has _(sadly)_ slowed down. I'm honored that you're still here with me, and I'll see you next time.**

 **xoxo PB**


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